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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156527">'tis the damn season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind'>atetheredmind</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Jon is a bit of a Grinch, Jonerys Advent 2020, Minor Character Death, Some angst, technically a coffee shop au, while Dany is a bit of a Buddy the Elf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:46:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone for Christmas, in a new place and surrounded by some of the grumpiest people she's ever met, Daenerys is determined to get in the holiday spirit. And she's determined to make Jon Snow, the very rude yet very cute barista and part-time Christmas tree salesman, love Christmas as much as she does. In fact, she's so sure she can, she's willing to bet on it.</p><p>Now, if only all her plans would stop going awry...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>553</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>'tis the damn season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas and Happy Jonerys Advent! Here is my contribution, featuring lots of fluff and a hopefully adequate amount of smut, with just a pinch (or maybe a punch) of angst because it's me, and every story needs conflict, right? And yes, that's a Taylor Swift lyric as the title, it just felt appropriate.</p><p>Thank you to aliciutza for beta'ing and making the beautiful moodboard!</p><p>Sorry I'm incapable of writing one-shots that aren't 20k words long, but I hope y'all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><hr/><p>Dany loved Christmas. She always had, ever since she was a kid—the colorful, twinkling lights and festive decorations, the same ten songs that played on the radio for a month straight, the sugary treats she always made herself sick on, even after her mother warned her that was exactly what would happen if she ate too many.</p><p>Sadly, her mother was no longer around to bake her cookies or caution her with restraint. This would be the second Christmas without her. Last year, Dany had been too heartbroken to celebrate the holiday; instead, she’d locked herself in her apartment and hid under the blankets while watching horror movies, just because it seemed like the furthest thing from Christmas. She'd already lost her father when she was younger, almost too young to really remember him, and losing a second parent had been unbearable.</p><p>This year, however, Dany was determined to throw herself into the holiday spirit wholeheartedly. Her mother had loved Christmas, too, and Dany knew she wouldn’t want her daughter to spend it locked in a world of grief again. </p><p>This year would also be her first Christmas in the North. She and her brother, Viserys, had moved to Winterfell after Dany had landed a new job there. It wasn’t her dream job, by any means, working as a clerical assistant in a lawyer’s office; she’d only picked it because she’d been looking for a change of scenery, and the North seemed like a fresh start. Viserys was “between jobs”—as he liked to say when asked—and seemed to be content with living off the life insurance and inheritance he’d received after their mother’s unexpected death. While she would have preferred for her brother to actually find work instead of constantly whining about how dreary the North was, Dany was glad he’d made the move with her. Spending the holiday in a new place, alone, where she didn’t know anyone, would have been even sadder than her last Christmas on Dragonstone.</p><p>Her first day at her new job fell on December 1st. It seemed like an auspicious sign, beginning her new life on the first day of the holiday month. She awoke in good spirits that day, though it was much too cold to go for her usual early morning run; that was definitely one downside about the North. In lieu of her workout, she took a hot shower to fully wake her up and got ready for work, taking extra care on her hair and makeup. Then, she bundled up in a thick winter coat, careful to shut the door extra quietly on her way out of her apartment. After a late night of drinking, Viserys hadn’t even made it to his bedroom before passing out on the couch; she’d already been asleep by the time he’d gotten home from the bar last night.</p><p>Stepping onto the sidewalk outside of her apartment building, Dany tugged her knit beanie down over her ears and set off for the office. It was only a fifteen-minute walk, which was the reason she chose the building, and she had more than half an hour to get to work, so she decided to duck into the coffee shop she passed along the way, Castle Black. The shop was decorated for Christmas, garlands strung from the ceiling and a tiny little tree on the counter. She smiled at the familiar Christmas jingle faintly playing through the speakers overhead.</p><p>Luckily, the line wasn’t unreasonable, and it wasn’t long before it was her turn to order. The barista was about her age, with a neatly trimmed beard and dark, piercing eyes. He was a stupidly good-looking man, his flannel button-down accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow hips, but it was the Santa hat he wore, slightly askew on his tousled black curls, that really made her smile.</p><p>“Happy Christmas!” she greeted.</p><p>Unmoved, he grunted. “If you say so.” He had a deep Northern brogue that roughened the edges of his words, his tongue wrapping around the soft syllables. She found herself wanting to hear him say more.</p><p>She glanced at his name tag. <em>Jon Snow</em>. “Is that really your name?” she asked, amused. Her smile widened as she looked to him again. “Or do you get special elf names for Christmas?”</p><p>He gave her a deadpan look. “What can I get you?” he asked flatly, clearly not interested in a conversation.</p><p>His blunt dismissal surprised her, and she found herself blushing. “Oh. Right.” Normally, she took her coffee black with a shot of espresso, but she liked to indulge for the holidays. Frazzled, she glanced behind him, her eyes quickly scanning the menu. “Um. How about a...large Gingerbread Mocha?”</p><p>He punched it into the register. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Daenerys.” At his blank look, she relented, “Dany is fine.”</p><p>He yelled her order over his shoulder to the baristas behind him making the drinks. “Large Gingerbread Mocha for Dany!”</p><p>After she paid in cash, he dropped her change in her hand. As she stuffed a couple coins into the tip jar, she spotted another jar beside it. It had a little sign that read: <em>If you’re feeling extra charitable this season, donate a dragon to benefit orphans at the Winterfell Group Home and your barista will sing you a Christmas carol!</em></p><p>With a grin, Dany dug through her wallet again and dropped a dragon in the tip jar before looking at the barista expectantly. He only stared at her. Raising her eyebrows, she pointed to the sign. “It says you’ll sing a Christmas carol for a dragon.”</p><p>He scowled. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>She blinked. “But—”</p><p>“Lady, I’ve got other customers to serve.”</p><p>Indignant, she huffed. “But I donated a dragon. You owe me a carol!”</p><p>At that, he smirked, the first non-scowl he’d given her. “What are you going to do? Reach in the jar and take your money back?”</p><p>Her face went hot. “Of course not—”</p><p>“Large Gingerbread Mocha for Dany!”</p><p>Another barista deposited her drink at the end of the counter. Jon waved sarcastically at her. “Happy Christmas.”</p><p>Glaring at him, Dany stepped out of the line to grab her coffee. She didn’t look back as she stomped out of the coffee shop, the frigid air cooling the heat in her face. Looking at her cup, she rolled her eyes at her misspelled name: <em>Dannie. </em>She took a sip of her drink, determined to put that unpleasant encounter out of her mind and not let it ruin the rest of her day.</p><p>At least, the Gingerbread Mocha was good.</p><hr/><p>Unfortunately, the rest of her day did not improve. In fact, her first day at work was a disaster. Her boss, Stannis Baratheon, was a bit of a prick. Everything she did seemed to displease him; either she was too slow or asked too many questions, and he would end up snapping at her. Dany tried not to let it bother her, but by lunch time she was more rattled than she cared to admit and had to escape to the bathroom for a bit of a cry and a mental pep talk before returning.</p><p>It wasn’t all bad, she supposed. She did make one friend, at least, another clerical assistant named Missandei. She’d found Dany in the bathroom, blotting her teary eyes, and kindly invited her to lunch at a nearby restaurant.</p><p>“Don’t let him get to you,” Missandei assured her, sharing her basket of chips with Dany. “He’s like that with everyone. It’s because he hates his life—things aren’t too happy at home, or so I’ve heard—so he takes it out on everyone around him.”</p><p>As Dany trudged home after work, she tried to psyche herself up. It wasn’t too dark yet; maybe Viserys would be willing to go pick out a Christmas tree with her. Maybe they could even decorate it tonight, together, like they used to do when they were children. Then it would start to feel more like Christmas.</p><p>Walking through her apartment door, she shrugged out of her jacket. “Vis?” she called out, draping her coat and beanie over the back of the couch. “You home?”</p><p>Her brother came rushing out of his bedroom suddenly, a suitcase in hand. “Dany! There you are!” He seemed harried, his eyes wild. “Have you seen my bathing suit?”</p><p>Bewildered, she stared at him, not comprehending the question. “Your bathing suit?”</p><p>“Yes, I can’t find it.”</p><p>She still didn’t understand. “It’s probably in one of the boxes you still haven’t unpacked,” she said dumbly then shook her head. “Vis, what do you need a bathing suit for? It’s freezing out!” Her eyes dropped to the suitcase in his hand. “Why do you have a suitcase?”</p><p>He sighed heavily. “Damn, I don’t have time to go through the boxes now. Oh, well. I’ll just have to buy a new one once I’m in Lys.” He checked his watch. “Oh, fuck me. I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t leave now.”</p><p>Her eyes widened. “Your flight? <em>What</em>? Where are you going?”</p><p>“Lys. I just told you,” he said, exasperated.</p><p>She gaped at him. “What do you mean? Why are you going to <em>Lys</em>?”</p><p>He smiled. “I’ve been chatting with this woman on Tinder. Her name is Doreah. She invited me to spend the month with her in Lys. Her family owns a vacation house there.”</p><p>“Vis, it’s almost Christmas!” she exclaimed, gobsmacked. “You can’t just leave!”</p><p>He gave her a pitying look. “Dany, I’m sorry, but this place is bloody miserable. I can’t stand the cold. You know that. I tried, for your sake, but I just <em>can’t </em>do it.”</p><p>This couldn’t be happening. “But...what about me? What am I supposed to do?” Her eyes started to water despite herself. “I’ll be all alone. On Christmas!”</p><p>“It won’t be so bad,” he told her, though not even he sounded convinced. “You’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Vis…” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re just going to leave like this. It’s already strange without mum around, and now you...”</p><p>Doubt crossed his face, and he hesitated. Then his phone pinged, and he pulled it out to check it. “Shit. My ride is here. I’m sorry, Dany, really, but I have to go. You’ll be fine. I know you. You’ll make friends in no time! And you can always FaceTime Uncle Aemon, I’m sure he would love that.”</p><p>With that, he kissed her cheek before bustling by her. “Vis—” she began as she spun around to follow him, growing increasingly desperate.</p><p>“I’ll call you from Lys!” he promised before shutting the door behind him. She could only stare at the closed door in disbelief.</p><hr/><p>Dany spent the rest of the week moping and missing her mum especially. Work didn’t really improve her mood; Stannis was still rude and disapproving. Her daily lunch with Missandei was the only bright spot in an otherwise dreadful day, but her spirits would plummet the moment she returned home to an empty apartment. Viserys could be a pill to be around, always complaining, always snapping, but he was family, and he was a companion, at least, someone to fill the silence. Now she was alone, in an unfamiliar city that was proving to be more hostile than she’d hoped.</p><p>Maybe she should adopt a cat. She’d always wanted one, but Viserys shot down the idea every time. He thought cats were disgusting and unclean. But, well, he wouldn’t be here to stop her this time, would he?</p><p>By Saturday, Dany was determined to turn things around. Just because her brother wouldn’t be around for Christmas didn’t mean she couldn’t still celebrate it. She would just have to work harder to fill his absence with all the things she loved about the holiday.</p><p>Starting with buying a Christmas tree.</p><p>Dany looked up where to buy Christmas trees and found a place within a walkable distance from her apartment, Stark Family Trees. Getting dressed, she braided her hair then slipped on her beanie and her fluffy jacket before heading out. The air was frigid and crisp; every day seemed colder than the one before it. She was sure it would snow soon. She’d never seen snow in person before, and she was really hoping for a white Christmas.</p><p>After walking for about ten minutes, Dany found the tree lot on the corner of an intersection. She crossed the street, holding up a hand in apology when an impatient driver wanting to turn left honked at her to hurry up.</p><p>Really, the Northerners were quite ruder than she thought they would be.</p><p>Thankfully, the incident was immediately forgotten as she walked through the entrance of the tree lot. The scent of fir was overpowering, and she drew in a deep lungful of it. The trees stood in rows, most of them towering over her, the evergreen needles lush, the branches sturdy. As she started down the first row, Dany smiled, dodging other shoppers and their children who ran circles around the trees, squealing in delight.</p><p>She was glad she'd decided to come here; already, she was feeling better.</p><p>She took her time perusing the selection, determined to find the perfect tree. Once she had settled on one, she looked around for help. Eventually, she spotted a man in a Carhartt jacket and gray knit beanie, talking to a young couple. Guiltily, she couldn’t help noticing what a nice arse he had, though when he wore jeans <em>that</em> tight, it was impossible <em>not</em> to notice.</p><p>She waited until he was done helping them to approach. “Excuse me, sir?”</p><p>When he turned around, her stomach dropped. “<em>Oh!</em>” It was the rude barista from the coffee shop, the one who’d refused to sing. Jon Snow. “It’s <em>you</em>.”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “It’s Gingerbread Mocha.”</p><p>She folded her arms over her chest. “It’s Dany, actually.”</p><p>A faint smile pulled at his mouth. “I remember.”</p><p>Her mouth thinned in displeasure. “You work here, too?”</p><p>He shrugged. “It’s my family’s tree lot. They have a big tree farm just outside the city. I help out sometimes.”</p><p>“Really?” She let out a childish snort. “I find that a little ironic.”</p><p>He tilted his head slightly. “Why is that?”</p><p>“You just seem like a bit of a Grinch, that’s all,” she said primly.</p><p>He scoffed. “Why? Because I find the company-mandated compulsion for Christmas cheer during work hours offensive?”</p><p>“It was for charity!” she exclaimed, and he rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Aye, and the <em>orphans </em>appreciate your donation, with or without my butchering a Christmas song in the process.”</p><p>Her cheeks flamed, and she huffed, looking around. “Is there someone else who can help me?”</p><p>“Sorry, my uncle and cousin are helping other people at the moment, so you’re stuck with me,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Just tell me what tree you want.”</p><p>With a sigh, she pointed to her selection. “That one.”</p><p>When he saw her pick, his eyes went round. “<em>That</em> one? It’s nearly twice your size! You’re going to need a ladder just to put the topper on.”</p><p>His gall annoyed her. “How do you know I don’t have someone to do that for me? Maybe I have a tall, strapping boyfriend waiting for me back home to help.”</p><p>“Do you?” he asked bluntly, and she flushed.</p><p>“Just give me the bloody tree.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Jon squatted down next to the tree and easily hoisted it out of its stand. She followed him across the lot where he sawed off some of the bottom branches then shoved it through the baler to wrap it in netting. Once she had paid, he lifted the tree into his arms and looked at her expectantly. “Show me to your car, and I’ll get this tied to your roof.”</p><p>She blinked. “Oh. I don’t have a car.”</p><p>He stared at her. “How did you plan to get this home, exactly?”</p><p>Embarrassed, she shrugged. “I was just going to walk.”</p><p>“Carrying <em>this</em>?” Again, he gestured to the tree in his arms. It almost dwarfed him.</p><p>She hadn’t really thought this through. “I don’t live far. It’s just a ten-minute walk to my apartment,” she said stubbornly. At his pointed look, she had no choice but to dig her heels in. “I’ll be fine!”</p><p>Jon sighed grievously. “I’ll carry it for you.”</p><p>“I’m perfectly capable of carrying it myself,” she argued, and he arched an eyebrow.</p><p>“If you say so.” He thrust the tree toward her, and she barely had time to wrap her arms around the branches. It was heavier than she thought it would be, and she couldn’t see around it.</p><p>“Oh—see, it’s fine,” she said, trying to turn around with it—and running right into another customer. “Sorry!”</p><p>Shaking his head, Jon grabbed the tree from her over her objections and leaned it against the baler. “Just wait here. I need to let my uncle know where I’m going.”</p><p>Before she could protest, he walked away. She watched him approach a man who looked to be in his early fifties with graying brown hair and who was ringing up another customer. He looked in her direction when Jon jabbed his thumb at her. The man smiled pleasantly at her and nodded, then Jon turned away, stalking back in her direction. He hoisted the tree onto his back and turned toward her.</p><p>“Lead the way.”</p><p>Stifling a sigh, Dany led him out of the tree lot. They didn’t talk the whole way to her apartment, Jon trailing her just slightly. She kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was OK, but he didn’t appear to be breaking a sweat at all.</p><p>At her apartment building, the tree was too big for the elevator, so he followed her up the stairs to the fourth floor without complaint. He was being so nice, she almost felt bad for her earlier attitude. “Thank you,” she told him at her front door, lingering awkwardly. “I can take it from here.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “I’m already here. Let me help you get it set up.”</p><p>Dany hesitated. She didn’t know how she felt about letting a strange man she hardly knew into her apartment, even as good-looking as he was. Then again, he was being more helpful than she probably deserved. And it was Christmas. Surely, he wouldn’t try to kill her at Christmas time, would he? Steeling herself, Dany unlocked her door and led him inside. She made sure to leave the door open, just in case.</p><p>“Where do you want it?” he asked over his shoulder. Dany pointed to the space she had cleared by the fireplace, and he carried it to that spot. She watched him get it fitted in the stand and winced, realizing he was right. She was going to need a step ladder to reach the top. The tree almost touched the ceiling.</p><p>Jon screwed the bolts into the tree trunk then looked at her. “Scissors?”</p><p>Finding some in her kitchen, Dany brought them to him, and he cut through the netting around the tree. As he peeled it off, the branches fanned out beautifully. He stepped back, surveying the tree then her. “Good?”</p><p>She smiled as she took in the tree. It was feeling more like Christmas by the minute. “Yes.” She turned her smile on him. “Thank you. For your help.”</p><p>He shrugged it off. “It’s what I’m here for.”</p><p>Suddenly, she felt bad about her earlier misgivings. “I’m sorry. For calling you a Grinch before.”</p><p>He chuckled, and she found herself smiling again. He had a nice laugh, and when he wasn’t being rude or derisive, he was even more handsome when he smiled. “You weren’t that far off, honestly.”</p><p>Dany frowned. “You don’t like Christmas?” He lifted his shoulders again. “But...you work at a Christmas tree lot!”</p><p>He cracked a smile. “Like I said. My uncle owns the place. I just help out when he needs it, not because I’m especially festive.”</p><p>She couldn’t help but gape at him. “I don’t get it. I would <em>love </em>growing up on a Christmas tree farm. I love Christmas.”</p><p>“I noticed,” he said dryly but not unkindly.</p><p>“It’s partly why I moved here,” she explained, a bit sheepishly. “I was hoping it would snow. I thought it might feel a bit more like Christmas that way.”</p><p>Jon shook his head. “Well, you’ll definitely get it, don’t worry. You’ll get so much of the stuff, you’ll come to hate it.”</p><p>She huffed. “I very much doubt that.”</p><p>He just gave her a look. “You’ll see. The North can be a pretty miserable place in the winter.”</p><p>She refused to concede. “No, <em>you’ll </em>see.”</p><p>Perplexed, he laughed. “See what? I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve already seen it.”</p><p>The wheels in her brain were spinning, though. “I meant that you’ll see just how magical this time of year can be. I bet I can get you in the Christmas spirit.”</p><p>“Oh, can you now?” he asked, bemused.</p><p>She nodded emphatically. She was growing increasingly excited about her idea. “Yes. I can. I’m pretty good at spreading holiday cheer, and I bet I can make you come to love Christmas as much as I do.”</p><p>“So, it’s a bet, is it?” He seemed mildly intrigued now. “What do you get if you win?”</p><p>Smiling, she shrugged. “Just the joy of having made someone else love Christmas as much as I do.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes. “Come on, I think the stakes need to be a little higher than <em>that</em>.”</p><p>She mulled it over. When it hit her, she broke out into a grin. “OK. If I win, you owe me that Christmas carol.”</p><p>He opened and closed his mouth. His nostrils flared, and she smiled victoriously. “Fine,” he grunted, clearly unhappy. “And if you lose?”</p><p>“I won’t lose,” she said confidently. He raised his eyebrows, and she spread her hands out. “What would you want?”</p><p>As he considered his options, he studied her intently, an interested gleam in his eyes. Something about the way he looked at her made her flush, and she began to regret asking. Finally, he smiled. “OK. If you lose, you can cover my Christmas Eve shift at my uncle’s tree lot.”</p><p><em>Oh.</em> Her shoulders sagged—in relief, definitely <em>not</em> disappointment. She lifted her chin. “Is that all? I would <em>happily </em>do that. So, does that mean we have a deal?”</p><p>He stared at her again, eyes squinted slightly as if debating. After a moment, he nodded and held out his hand. “Deal.”</p><p>Triumphant, she took his hand and shook it. He had a nice grip, warm and firm albeit slightly sticky with tree sap. “You understand this means you have to agree to whatever I ask of you, no matter how silly you think it might be,” she told him.</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “Aye.”</p><p>She smiled slyly at him. Challenge: Fill Jon Snow With Christmas Cheer, accepted.</p><hr/><p>When Dany walked into Castle Black, the bells on the door jangled noisily to announce her presence. Jon, who was at the counter helping another customer, glanced her way then did a double take before arching an eyebrow at her. She smiled and got in line to wait.</p><p>She hadn’t been back to this coffee shop since her first day at the office, adamant about never giving them her patronage again. Or at least about avoiding Jon. And he seemed to be in the coffee shop every morning at the same time as when she walked by on her way to work (she might have checked every time she walked by the place, longing for a Gingerbread Mocha).</p><p>But since their bet three days ago, Dany had been scheming, trying to think of what she could do to get him into the holiday spirit. Now, she had the perfect idea for their first activity together.</p><p>Finally, it was her turn to order. When she stepped up to the counter, Jon braced his arms against it, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows. His Santa hat seemed to be perpetually askance. “I was wondering when I’d see you in here again.”</p><p>“You know, there’s another cafe just a little farther down the street that I’ve found to be a bit more pleasant,” she said with a shrug. “And there’s never a line.”</p><p>He snorted. “Hot Pie’s?”</p><p>“Yes. They have such delicious pastries, too,” she gloated.</p><p>“And terrible pest control,” he said wryly, smiling when her face fell. “I heard they have rats the size of your head.”</p><p>“You’re lying,” she accused, but he only smiled.</p><p>“Why do you think there’s never a line?”</p><p>She pursed her lips. “<em>Well</em>. As long as the, uh, rats don’t bother me, I don’t mind sharing my preferred coffee spot,” she lied, and he just shook his head. “Anyway.” Her face brightened. “Speaking of rats—I have just the thing to take care of that.”</p><p>He frowned. “What does that mean?”</p><p>Dany only smiled mysteriously. “Is our bet still on?”</p><p>“Aye,” he said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Good.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, sliding it across the counter to him. “Then meet me here at 5:30 this evening.”</p><p>Unfolding it, he squinted as he read the address she’d scribbled on the inside. “And what is this place, exactly?”</p><p>Her smile turned smug. “You’ll just have to wait and find out. See you then!” she chirped. She pivoted on her heel, ready to saunter out of the shop with her head held high, but when Jon called back to her, she turned, a haughty question on her face.</p><p>He gestured around him. “Did you mean to order something while you were here?”</p><p>She faltered, cutting an apologetic look to the patron behind her as she quickly got back in line. “Yes, sorry!” Jon tried not to laugh as she huffed, her cheeks burning. “Large Gingerbread Mocha, please.”</p><hr/><p>“Really?” Jon said as he got out of his truck, stepping up onto the curb beside her. “You brought me to an animal shelter?”</p><p>Dany smiled, glancing over her shoulder at the building behind her. <em>Winterfell Animal Rescue Center</em>, the sign read across the front. She turned back to him. “Yep. I’ve decided to adopt.”</p><p>“What does this have to do with Christmas?”</p><p>“Because I can’t think of a better embodiment of the Christmas spirit than giving a poor, neglected animal a forever home this holiday,” she explained then shrugged. “And because it would be nice to wake up to a furry companion on Christmas morning.”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “If you’re looking for a <em>furry companion,</em> you might have better luck looking online.”</p><p>She huffed out a laugh, the air crystallizing around her. “Come on. I already filled out an application and was pre-approved, so now all that’s left is picking out the perfect cat.”</p><p>Following her into the building, he groaned. “A <em>cat</em>?”</p><p>She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Yes. What’s wrong with cats?”</p><p>“Nothing, really. They’re just not very friendly, are they? Wouldn’t a dog be better? Especially for Christmas?”</p><p>“You haven’t met a lot of cats then,” she said as they approached the front desk. “If <em>you </em>want a dog, you should get a dog for Christmas.”</p><p>He shook his head. “Already have one. Believe me, he’s more than enough.”</p><p>“Really?” she asked, intrigued. “What kind of dog?”</p><p>“Well, I guess he’s considered more of a wolf, really.” At her look of alarm, he chuckled. “He’s domesticated, don’t worry. The wolf has been pretty much bred out of his kind.”</p><p>“What’s his name?”</p><p>“Ghost. He’s pure white.”</p><p>Her face lit up. “Like snow. How perfect for Christmas.” Jon shook his head again and nudged her forward when the clerk called for her.</p><p>After Dany got checked in, a volunteer came to lead her and Jon to the wing of the building that housed all their rescued or surrendered cats. There were dozens of them in cages lining either wall, and for a moment she was overwhelmed. A chorus of meows echoed through the room. How was she going to choose only one? She’d be lucky to leave here without trying to take them all.</p><p>Taking a fortifying breath, Dany went to the first cage. The cat, an orange tabby, was curled up in a ball, sleeping on a tattered cat bed. She read the name on the little placard attached to the cage door out loud, “Lommy.”</p><p>“What the fuck’s a lommy?” Jon grunted behind her, and she gave him a look.</p><p>“That’s his name.” She waited a moment, but the cat didn’t stir. Not wanting to wake it, she went to the next cage. This one was cream-colored with big gold eyes. He sat tucked away in the back corner, but when she approached, he immediately came to the bars to rub against them. Dany smiled and reached a hand out, letting the cat sniff her fingers then rub his face on her knuckles.</p><p>She laughed. “This one’s friendly. See?”</p><p>“He just wants food,” Jon muttered under his breath, but Dany ignored him, wriggling her fingers through the bars to scratch his ear. He began purring loudly.</p><p>“He’s white, too. Kinda. Like snow,” Dany pointed out.</p><p>“Anyone ever warn you about yellow snow?”</p><p>Throwing him another look, Dany stroked the cat’s head some more. His name was Viserion, according to the placard. <em>Kind of like Viserys</em>, she thought, a little gleefully. He would <em>love </em>that. Maybe it was fate. “I think this one is definitely a contender.”</p><p>“So let’s get it and go,” Jon griped, glancing around at all the cats, then he shuddered slightly. “All these beasts look like they want to eat me.”</p><p>“Really, Jon, they’re <em>cats</em>,” she scoffed, moving on to the next cage. “They’re harmless. Give them a little bit of food and a warm place to sleep, and they’ll love you forever.”</p><p>He shot her a doubtful look then sounded out the next cat’s name. “Rhaegal.” The cat in question, with its russet-colored fur that looked nearly bronze in the light, tilted his head at them, his green eyes wide and unblinking.</p><p>“He’s beautiful,” Dany commented, wiggling her fingers through the bars. After a second of hesitation, Rhaegal approached, stretching out a paw to bat at her fingers. She laughed, and he did it again, thankfully keeping his claws retracted. “He’s playful. I like him.”</p><p>Jon only hummed noncommittally, and after a moment they continued on. The next cat was sleeping too, so Dany carried on to the next. This one was pitch black, curled up in a ball but not asleep, his yellow eyes squinted lazily as if he were tracking her movements. She read the name on the placard.</p><p>“Hi, Drogon,” she cooed. He didn’t react.</p><p>“Black cats are considered bad luck, aren’t they?” Jon asked, and she rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Tell me you don’t actually believe in that superstition.” He shrugged indifferently, and she scowled at him. “You know, it’s <em>because </em>of baseless old wives’ tales like <em>that </em>that black cats have the hardest time getting adopted.”</p><p>He held up his hands defensively. “<em>Alright</em>, my bad. Adopt this one then if you’re so worried about it.”</p><p>“Maybe I will.” She moved closer to the cage, squeezing her fingers between the narrow bars. Drogon’s eyes followed the movement, and she scratched the bottom of the cage. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she called softly, trying to entice him. Finally, he lifted his head, eyes following her fingers. Then, he unfolded himself from his ball, stretching languidly before approaching her, his long tail twitching in the air. She held her hand still when he lowered his face to sniff her fingers then rubbed against her knuckles. Pleased, Dany smiled triumphantly and glanced at Jon as she scratched the side of Drogon’s face.</p><p>“See, he’s friendly, just a little wary.”</p><p>Jon made a face. “If you say so.”</p><p>“Here, you try,” she suggested, withdrawing her hand. Drogon sat back on his haunches, looking between her and Jon. With an exaggerated eye roll, Jon reached out his hand, jutting his fingers through the bars.</p><p>Fast as lightning, Drogon swatted at his fingers. Jon yelped in surprise and jerked his hand back. “Hey!” He looked at his hand, appalled. “That fucker scratched me!”</p><p>Dany looked at him with wide eyes then began to laugh. When she reached into the cage again, Drogon didn’t attack, holding perfectly still as she scratched his head. Jon stared at the interaction, mystified, and she grinned at him.</p><p>“Oh, I’m definitely getting this one,” she said happily, earning a scowl from him.</p><p>In the end, she took home not just Drogon, but Viserion and Rhaegal, too.</p><hr/><p>By the time Dany reached the city market, she couldn’t feel her face, and her hands were nearly frozen stiff despite her gloves. It was below freezing outside, and the sun being out that Saturday afternoon did little to warm her up.</p><p>She spotted Jon standing by the entrance to the market, bundled up in his Carhartt jacket and a green scarf. As she approached him, he nodded in greeting then gaped at her. “Bloody hell, woman. Did you walk here? It’s fucking cold!”</p><p>“I told you I don’t have a car,” she replied, her teeth chattering violently. She really hoped she didn’t have snot streaming down her face. He quickly ushered her inside the market, holding the door open for her. Instantly, she was hit with a blast of warm air and the comforting chatter of fellow shoppers, layered with the soft dulcet tunes of Christmas music. The market smelled of spices, like cloves and cinnamon. It was like walking into a bakery.</p><p>“There’s a thing called public transportation, you know.”</p><p>Turning to face him, Dany blew into her gloved hands and held them against her face in an attempt to return sensation to her nose. “I know, but I thought it might be nice to walk. I used to run a lot back home, but I can’t get nearly enough outdoor exercise here.”</p><p>He shook his head. “Next time, call me. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”</p><p>She refrained from pointing out she needed his phone number to do that, not wanting him to think she was hitting on him or something equally desperate.</p><p>Rubbing her hands together, Dany spun around to survey the market hall that loomed around them. It looked like a Christmas village, decked in garlands and wreaths and bows and even old-timey street lamps. Every vendor was hawking Christmas trinkets and other homemade goods. Already, the warmth of the place was erasing the misery of her ill-advised trek to the market.</p><p>“So, what are we doing here, exactly?” Jon asked, suspicion edging his voice as he surveyed the space.</p><p>“Christmas shopping, of course!”</p><p>He stared at her. “Seriously? That’s your big idea to get me to like Christmas?” He shook his head. “Dany, I do my shopping online. You know, like every modern adult in the 21st century.”</p><p>“Well, <em>have </em>you done your shopping yet?”</p><p>His lips thinned. “No,” he admitted grudgingly.</p><p>She tugged off her gloves and shoved them into her coat pockets. “Then now is the perfect time to do it.”</p><p>He groaned. “Dany, maybe you don’t know this about most men, but we <em>hate</em> shopping. Like, with a passion. In fact, being dragged around the market all afternoon is my idea of hell.”</p><p>She ignored him, grabbing his arm to steer him to the first vendor. “It won’t be <em>all</em> afternoon,” she assured him. After all, she didn’t have that many people to buy gifts for. Just Viserys (even though he wouldn’t be there to receive it) and her great uncle Aemon, who was all the way back in Dragonstone. And Missandei, she decided on the spot. They were friends now. “I think the best thing about Christmas is buying gifts for people you care about,” she explained, smiling kindly at the vendor before she began perusing the woman’s wares. “And I think there’s just something really special about handpicking gifts. It makes it that much more personal and special. Don’t you think?”</p><p>Jon shrugged. “I just get my family gift cards so that way they can pick what they <em>actually </em>want instead of me trying to guess and feeling like a wanker when they do that fake smile, pretending like they love it.”</p><p>She gave him an exasperated look. “Fine. Then you can just watch me shop, but I’m telling you, it’ll be more fun if you participate as well.”</p><p>He grunted as she idly wandered around the booth, thoughtfully studying the items. There was nothing there that really spoke to her, so she wished the vendor a Happy Christmas then moved on to the next booth. Jon followed her dutifully.</p><p>“So how are the little monsters?” he asked conversationally.</p><p>“What? Oh, the cats!” She rolled her eyes. “They’re wonderful. I think they’re adjusting quite well.”</p><p>“Really? All three of them?” he asked, doubtful, and she made a sheepish face.</p><p>“Well, Drogon refuses to come out of my closet, and he hisses if the other two come too close to him. And Rhaegal keeps climbing my tree and knocking my ornaments off. He’s broken three already.” Admittledy, that had hurt. Most of her ornaments were from her childhood, the same ones she’d hang on the tree with her mother and brother. But she reminded herself cats didn’t understand sentimental attachment to objects. “He also keeps trying to eat the needles only to immediately puke them back up.”</p><p>Jon laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “Told you three cats was too many.”</p><p>She scowled at him. “It’s fine. It just takes cats a while to get used to a new environment, especially after being in a cage for who knows how long.” She smiled to herself, picking up a necklace from a table to study it more closely. “At least Viserion is an angel. He loves to cuddle and make biscuits in my lap.”</p><p>“Make biscuits?” Jon asked, confused.</p><p>“You know, the thing cats do with their paws, like they’re kneading dough.” She set the necklace down to demonstrate.</p><p>He blinked and shook his head. “You’re a cat lady already.”</p><p>“You know, if you really think about it, that’s just a roundabout way of calling a woman a witch,” she pointed out with a sniff. He narrowed his eyes, and she turned away and carried on to the next vendor, leaving him to ponder over it.</p><p>It took less than an hour for Dany to complete her Christmas shopping. For Viserys, she bought a set of dragon eggs carved from wood and delicately painted. For Uncle Aemon, she picked up a first-edition of the <em>Jade Compendium</em> she’d miraculously found at a used-books booth. And for Missandei, since her friend had mentioned that she was originally from Naath, Dany bought her a necklace with a silver butterfly pendant.</p><p>At some point while she shopped, Jon actively began to search for gifts as well. At one vendor, he’d bought a charm bracelet with a wolf pendant and a handmade dream catcher, and at another booth he got an old map of the North and the Lands Beyond the Wall. He’d also picked up some homemade jam and candles and a handcrafted leather wallet.</p><p>“I’m done with my shopping, if you’re ready to go,” Dany told him, sipping the mulled wine they’d bought from one booth. Jon frowned pensively, and she tried not to smile. He was really cute when he was thinking.</p><p>“I really should get something for Sansa while I’m here.”</p><p>She looked at him curiously. “Is that your girlfriend?” she asked, probably a bit too obviously.</p><p>He scoffed—loudly. “Gods, no. She’s my cousin, but she’s more like my annoying little sister. I don’t have a girlfriend.”</p><p>“You have a large family,” Dany commented, hating how relieved she was to hear him say that.</p><p>“Too large, really. But these are all for my cousins and my uncle and aunt,” he said, indicating the bags he was holding. He shrugged. “I’m close to them.”</p><p>“This your uncle who owns the tree lot?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“It must be nice to have such a large family,” she said wistfully.</p><p>He grunted. “Sometimes, I suppose. Other times...” He trailed off with a shrug. She wanted to tell him how lonely it could be otherwise but bit her tongue. They didn’t know each other well enough to be trading sob stories just yet.</p><p>“Well, maybe I can help,” Dany offered. “Find something for Sansa, I mean. What’s she like?”</p><p>“Nothing like her siblings, truthfully. Arya’s easy to shop for. We like a lot of the same things. Robb, too. But Sansa’s into—I don’t know, girly stuff, I guess.”</p><p>Dany rolled her eyes. <em>Men</em>. “How old is she? That will greatly affect what to look for.”</p><p>“She’s in uni.”</p><p>Thinking it over, Dany led Jon back to one of the earlier booths they’d visited. She asked him a few more questions as they looked, before eventually settling on a vintage hair comb inlaid with gemstones and a silver bird. “What about this?”</p><p>Jon studied it critically then nodded. “Aye, I think she would like it. She fixes up her hair a lot. She has a beauty vlog.”</p><p>He went to pay for it then returned to Dany’s side, the comb wrapped and boxed. “Thank you for your help.”</p><p>She smiled. “You’re welcome. Admit it. It was nice picking out their gifts in person, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“I suppose,” he relented as they headed for the exit. “I still would have preferred to do it online.” Outside the market, the sun was beginning to set, the air even colder than it had been earlier. Dany shuddered and tightened her scarf around her neck. Jon caught her movement and nodded toward his truck. “Come on, let me drive you home.”</p><p>Dany wasn’t going to argue. Eagerly, she followed him to his car, climbing into the passenger side once he’d unlocked it. The inside smelled distinctly masculine, like pine needles and tobacco. She inhaled deeply, strangely soothed by the scent. Jon got the truck started and cranked up the heat; thankfully, it didn’t take long to heat up the interior, but the drive to her apartment was disappointingly short.</p><p>She unbuckled her seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”</p><p>He nodded as she went to open the door, but then he stopped her. When she looked at him, he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. “Give me your number so you don’t freeze to death the next time you make plans for us.”</p><p>She was still smiling when she entered her apartment a few minutes later.</p><hr/><p>Dany felt a bit lost in the crowd around her. Everyone else there was with family or friends or seemed to know at least one other person. At least, the crush of bodies provided some warmth, though she had to stop her feet and wiggle her toes in her winter boots to make sure they hadn’t developed frostbite. Standing on tiptoe, she craned her head left and right, but she was still too short to see over the crowd.</p><p>It didn’t look like Jon was coming.</p><p>She tried to temper her disappointment. <em>Oh, well.</em> She was still enjoying herself at the tree lighting ceremony. At the moment, there were adorably costumed school children on stage, dressed as reindeers and elves and singing one of her favorite Christmas songs. They were pretty offkey, but they were kids, so she graciously graded them on a curve. Tightening her scarf around her neck, she burrowded down into her coat as she observed the performance. Her foot tapped along with the beat, and when they finally finished, she cheered effusively, whistling since her gloved hands muffled her clapping. Some of the other attendees cut her vexed looks, but she ignored them.</p><p>Someone grabbed her arm suddenly, startling her. On reflex, she began to pull away, ready to throw her elbow back into their solar plexus as she’d learned in self-defense classes, but a familiar voice at her ear a split second later stayed her arm. “Hey! Sorry I’m late.”</p><p><em>Jon. </em>He’d made it after all.</p><p>Dany turned and gave him a grin, way too happy to see him. “It’s OK. Though you missed the concert.”</p><p>He let go of her arm to shove his hands into his jacket pockets. “I caught the end of it. Kinda wish I’d missed that, too.”</p><p>She huffed, something between a laugh and a scoff. “You really hate Christmas music, don’t you?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Guess I find it all rather insipid and grating.”</p><p>Dany shook her head. “You really are a Grinch. You might just be a lost cause.”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “Does this mean you’re conceding defeat in our bet?”</p><p>She turned her nose up. “<em>Never</em>.”</p><p>He smiled crookedly at her, and she felt her stomach flip over. Frazzled, Dany turned away from him. The kids were still being ushered off the stage by harangued adults. “Well, you haven’t missed the tree lighting. That’s the important part.”</p><p>“I work at a tree lot. I see trees all the time,” he reminded her, moving to stand beside her. The crowd forced him so close, his arm pressed against hers.</p><p>“But nothing on this magnitude,” she insisted. “Decorating your own tree is one thing. That’s always fun. But seeing a tree bigger than a house being lit up, and in a communal space like this, so we can all experience it together—that’s just something else.”</p><p>When she glanced at Jon, he looked amused. “You would make a great department store elf.”</p><p>She laughed. “Because I’m peppy and full of holiday cheer?”</p><p>“That, but mostly because you’re short.”</p><p>With a scowl, she jabbed him with her elbow, making him chuckle. With the miniature reindeer and elves finally wrangled, the emcee of the event walked up to the mic to introduce the mayor of Winterfell, Jeor Mormont. Dany shushed Jon so she could listen. After greeting the crowd, Mayor Mormont went on to explain the tradition of the tree lighting ceremony, his speech peppered with pre-scripted dad jokes that elicited a few pained chuckles from the crowd. Finally, he invited on to the stage the special guest of the evening, Miss Westeros herself, Margaery Tyrell, to do the honors of lighting the tree. The crowd cheered for her—even Jon, perhaps a little <em>too </em>loudly, Dany couldn’t help but notice.</p><p>“Thank you! It’s such an honor to be here in your great city to share in this grand tradition with you all,” Margaery gushed into the microphone. She wore a stylish white peacoat belted at her waist, red leather knee-high, spiky-heeled boots, and the gaudy tiara she’d been crowned in just a few days earlier.</p><p>Mayor Mormont made a big deal of passing the switch to her, and the crowd joined them both in the countdown. On one, Margaery flipped the switch, and the crowd turned as one toward the large tree that stood in the middle of the city square. All at once, the tree exploded in lights, a rainbow of shimmering, twinkling colors. Dany sucked in a breath, and a collective <em>ooh</em> went through the crowd before they erupted in applause. Children shrieked in delight.</p><p>Once the tree was officially lit, the mayor thanked Margaery for her help as well as the crowd for coming. He ended the event with the standard well wishes: “We wish you a Happy Christmas, and an even happier New Year!”</p><p>As if on cue, the crowd began to disperse. Dany looked to Jon, assuming he would want to leave now that his obligation was completed but wishing he would stay a little longer. “Well. What did you think?” she prompted.</p><p>“It was nice, I suppose,” he said. “I’ve never actually been to one of these things in person.”</p><p>“Really? Back home, I went to these every year with my mum and brother.” She stifled a wince—every year but last, that was. “It’s a bit warmer in Dragonstone, though, so it didn’t ever feel quite as Christmas-y as this does.”</p><p>“Aye, it’s bloody freezing out here,” Jon agreed, shivering. He looked up at the sky, considering it thoughtfully. “Looks like it’ll snow tonight. The first of the season.”</p><p>Excited, she glanced up at the night sky. Thick, fluffy clouds blotted out the moon and most of the stars. “That’s what the forecasters were saying this morning.”</p><p>“You don’t need a forecast to tell you when it’s going to snow here,” Jon told her sagely. “You can just smell it in the air.”</p><p>He took a deep breath, and she did the same, drawing the frigid air into her lungs. She couldn’t smell anything; then again, she’d never smelled snow before. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said, her breath leaving her in a gust as she laughed softly.</p><p>He smiled. “You live here long enough, you’ll come to know the smell of it.” He frowned to himself. “The roads will be pretty bad later. I should probably get home before too late.”</p><p>“Oh.” She felt like he’d only just gotten there—which he had, really. Despite her disappointment, she nodded. “Of course.”</p><p>She braced herself for his goodbye, but instead he asked, “You want to get a beer?”</p><p>She blinked. “You’re not worried about the snow?”</p><p>“It hasn’t started snowing yet. Besides, I’ve got a truck.” He shrugged. “It’s not me I worry about, really. It’s everyone else. Anyway, I’m already here. Let me buy you a drink for keeping you waiting, at least. It’ll help warm you up.”</p><p>She smiled. “OK.”</p><hr/><p>They walked to a nearby tavern, Holdfast, and got a booth to themselves. Dany hadn’t tasted Northern ale before, so she ordered a beer based on his suggestion. It wasn’t bad, just a bit strong, but as she drank, the beer gradually warmed her from the inside out, making her feel loose and relaxed. She and Jon talked for a while, long enough for her to order a second beer. Jon just got a water for himself, since he was driving. This was the first time they’d really talked; they’d been too preoccupied at the animal shelter and then later at the Christmas market to do the standard get-to-know-you dance.</p><p>“Really?” Dany laughed blithely at the story Jon had been telling her. “So he’s basically a foster fail, then.”</p><p>Jon chuckled. “I guess you could say that, aye. Ghost is just stubborn, though. For some reason, he only listens to me.”</p><p>He’d been telling her more about his family, the same one that owned the Christmas tree farm. Apparently, they also raised and trained search and rescue dogs, which they then adopted out to local search and rescue organizations. The North could be a brutal place in the winter; lots of hikers got lost in the woods, or, even more terrifyingly, found themselves buried in avalanches on the mountains. The Starks used direwolves to help find missing or injured hikers because they were the best adept at navigating the often hostile Northern terrain.</p><p>“You raised him,” Dany pointed out. “Sounds like he just got very attached to you.”</p><p>He nodded in acknowledgment, a fond look in his eyes. She liked seeing him like this, so relaxed and at ease. “He’s a good dog.”</p><p>“That’s really interesting though, that you do that kind of work. You wear so many hats,” she mused, resting her chin in her palm.</p><p>He shrugged and sipped his water. “I like to stay busy, I guess. The training doesn’t take up a lot of my time, since we only have so many pups to train at a time. Speaking of,” he checked the time on his phone. “I need to get home and feed Ghost. He’s going to be mad at me.”</p><p>“What time is it?” she asked.</p><p>“After ten.”</p><p>Her eyes widened. “Already?” They’d been talking for two hours. She hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. “Oh, gods. I should have fed the cats an hour ago.” She moaned. “They’re going to take it out on the tree.”</p><p>Jon laughed and threw some money down on the table. “Come on. Drinks are on me.”</p><p>“Oh, no, I can pay for my own,” she protested, but he wouldn’t have it, sliding out of the booth. Swigging the last of her beer, Dany followed suit and put her coat and scarf back on as they headed for the exit.</p><p>As Jon held the door for her, Dany stepped out into a winter wonderland. She came to a dead stop to gawk. “Oh my gods.” At some point while they’d been inside the bar, the clouds had finally opened up to release their snow. Everything was covered in a blanket of the white stuff—the ground, the cars, the rooftops across the street—and it was still coming down steadily.</p><p>Jon stepped out beside her with a low whistle. “Wow. That came down pretty fast.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen snow before,” she admitted, awed. There was a strange sort of hush to the night now, only broken by the crunching of tires as a car drove over it.</p><p>“Really?” he asked, surprised.</p><p>“Not in person.” Dany held out her hand to catch the flakes on her glove, then she stepped out from underneath the awning and turned her face upward, closing her eyes. Each snowflake that hit her face stung, little biting pecks of ice before immediately melting on the warm surface of her skin. She laughed, blinking her eyes open against the flakes that had tangled in her lashes. When she looked to Jon, she saw he watched her in amusement. “It’s incredible.”</p><p>He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Honestly, I haven’t been excited about snow since I was a kid.” He was smiling though, just a small one.</p><p>“In that case, come on.” She began walking away from him, crossing the road back to the square where the large Christmas tree sat, still all lit up, its branches now weighted with snow.</p><p>“What are we doing?” Jon called after her.</p><p>“We’re going to play in it!” she told him over her shoulder, picking up her pace. Once she reached the grassy square, she slipped a little on the snow. Her arms pinwheeled to keep her balance as she got her feet underneath her.</p><p>“Whoa, be careful,” Jon chastised once he’d caught up to her, but she only laughed.</p><p>“I always wanted to do this!” Dany spun around in a circle, face turned up to the falling snowflakes. Then she dropped to the ground, sprawling out on her back. Alarmed, Jon was at her side in an instant.</p><p>“Shit, Dany, you alright?”</p><p>She flung her arms and legs out to her sides. “Yes! I’m making a snow angel.” She flapped her limbs a few times before angling her face toward him. “Come on, make one with me.”</p><p>His face pinched in a scowl, and he huffed, standing up straight. “I’m not lying down in the snow, Dany. It’s bloody cold. Get up.” He held his hand out for her, but only once she was satisfied with her snow angel efforts did she accept his help. She clambered to her feet to regard her work.</p><p>“Not bad.”</p><p>“Your whole backside is covered in snow,” Jon pointed out. She didn’t care.</p><p>“Well, if you won’t make a snow angel, then help me make a snowman.”</p><p>He groaned as she darted to a fresh, undisturbed area of snow. “You’re worse than my cousin Rickon—and he’s twelve,” he griped.</p><p>“And you’re no fun,” she retorted and squatted to scoop up a pile of snow, packing it together tightly. Then she gathered more, patting it onto the growing base of her snowman. She stopped to look back at Jon. “Well? You have to at least <em>try, </em>Jon. Remember, you agreed to play along, no matter how silly you thought it was.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, he finally dragged himself over to help and crouched beside her. Pleased, she smiled as he added a pitiful handful of snow to her base, and she got to work on the second, smaller section to place on top. “You can make the head,” she directed, and he turned away to scoop up some fresh snow.</p><p>Once she had the second section completed, Dany set it on top of the base then stood up to admire it. Overall, the snowman was looking rather small. “Maybe I should have gone bigger,” she mused. “What do you think?” When Jon didn’t answer, she turned around. “Jon—”</p><p>A snowball hit her square in the face, and she squawked as the snow stung her bare skin. She spat out the wet stuff and frantically wiped at her face, rapidly blinking her eyes clear. Jon was laughing at her, and all she could do was gape at him in outrage. “What the hell!” she blustered, still spitting out snow.</p><p>He stopped laughing to shrug. “You wanted to play. This is how my family plays.”</p><p>Her eyes narrowed, and with a determined glower, she bent over and scooped up two handfuls of snow. As she quickly packed it together, Jon regarded her in amusement, unafraid. “Come on, then, let’s see what you’ve got.”</p><p>Scowling, Dany hurled the puny snowball at his face. He easily ducked it, cackling as he scooped up more snow from the ground. “Dammit!” she huffed, spinning around to grab a chunk of her unfinished snowman. She whirled around and chucked it at him, this time nailing him in the chest. But it was too loose, disintegrating easily against his coat. He looked down at his chest then at her, mashing the snow together in his hands.</p><p>“Well, now you’re going to get it.”</p><p>Her eyes widened at the size of his snowball, and she slowly backed away. “Jon, don’t. You already got me in the face! We’re even!”</p><p>He ignored her, advancing. With a squeal, she turned and ran. The snowball hit her in the back before she could take cover behind a bench, trickling down the collar of her jacket and slipping under her sweater and down her back. She shrieked, trying to shake it out. “Oh my gods, that’s so bleeding cold!”</p><p>Jon laughed heartily. “You’re terrible at this.”</p><p>Dany was nothing if not tenacious. Scooping some snow off the bench, she took the time to pack it more tightly this time, still crouched behind the bench. Jon took cover behind a tree, and she hurled the ball at him, cursing when it sailed right by him. He quickly returned fire but also missed. They took turns lobbing snowballs at each other, laughing and yelling in triumph when one would hit. Quickly revising her strategy, Dany took the time to make two snowballs at once. After throwing one in his direction, which he avoided by ducking behind the tree, she had the other ready to go; the second he popped his head out to fire his own, she launched hers at his head. This one nailed him directly in the face, and he let out a shocked yelp.</p><p>Crowing in delight, Dany leapt up from her crouched position to do a victory dance and immediately slipped. Jon dusted the snow from his face, watching her with a deadpan expression. Balancing herself on the bench, she grinned at him. “<em>Now</em> we’re even.”</p><p>Conceding, Jon dropped his snowball in truce. “Fair enough.”</p><p>She came toward him, practically floating. The snow still clung to his beard in clumps, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold, his eyelashes spiky and wet. He looked quite handsome, even in defeat. “See, that was fun, wasn’t it?” she gloated, her teeth chattering. Now that the thrill of the snowball fight was fading, she could feel how cold she was.</p><p>He chuffed. “Won’t be so fun when you get hypothermia. Come on, we should get you home so you can warm up.”</p><p>“I can walk, it’s not far—” At his stern look, she clamped her mouth shut and followed him to his truck. Falling in step with him, she beat her hands against her thighs to dislodge the wet snow from her gloves. “Thanks for indulging me.”</p><p>He grunted in acknowledgment. “What’s next on your agenda?” he asked.</p><p>She cut him a sideways smile. “There’s this caroling event tomorrow—”</p><p>“No,” he cut her off immediately, and she huffed.</p><p>“You promised—”</p><p>“We can do literally anything else, just no singing.”</p><p>“What do you have against caroling?”</p><p>He just shook his head as they reached his car. “I don’t sing,” he said, and she could tell he wasn’t going to budge.</p><p>With a sigh, she wrenched open the passenger side door to climb inside. Once he was in the driver’s seat, she said, “Fine. I’ll think of something else.” As he cranked his engine, she gave him a warning look. “But just know you might like it even less.”</p><p>He scoffed. “Not likely.”</p><hr/><p>That night, after some quick research, Dany texted Jon their change of plans, which he responded to with minimal complaint, surprisingly. The following day, he came to pick her up at the agreed upon time. When she got into his car, she was immediately greeted by a wet dog nose pressing against her cheek.</p><p>“Oh!” She laughed in surprise as Jon pushed a giant white beast off of her.</p><p>“Down, boy,” he commanded firmly.</p><p>Dany twisted in her seat. “Is this the infamous Ghost?” she cooed, reaching into the narrow backseat to scratch his ear. He nosed at her face again, licking her cheek, and his tail thumped happily against the seat.</p><p>“Aye, that’s him.” Jon waited till she got her seatbelt on before pulling away from the curb. “Hope you don’t mind. Figured he could get some exercise while we’re at it. He likes to explore the woods on his own sometimes.”</p><p>“Of course not,” she insisted, rubbing Ghost’s chin. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he squinted, positively delirious. “Gods, he’s beautiful.” <em>Just like his owner. </em>“And huge! You weren’t kidding.” The direwolf’s head nearly touched the ceiling of the truck.</p><p>Once he seemed satisfied with her pets, Dany settled down in her seat. “You got your skates?” After he’d nixed the caroling idea, Dany had been ecstatic when she’d learned there was an outdoor skating rink just on the edge of the Wolfswood that was free and open to the public.</p><p>“They’re in the backseat,” Jon replied, glancing at her then forward again as he drove. “What about you?” She held up the pair of pristine white skates she’d brought with her. His eyebrows lifted. “Those look fancy.”</p><p>“I borrowed them from my coworker, Missandei. Luckily, we wear about the same size shoe, and she didn’t mind me using them. I’ve never been ice skating before.”</p><p>His head whipped toward her, and he looked aghast. “<em>What</em>? Never? Oh, fucking hell.”</p><p>“It’s everybody’s first time at some point!” she said defensively.</p><p>At his groan, Ghost shifted toward him and licked the side of his face, eager to comfort him. Jon scratched his ear in thanks then shooed him off. “Aye, but now you’re making <em>me </em>responsible for your safety. Do you know how dangerous ice skating is when you have no idea what you’re doing?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “It’s ice skating, not a contact sport. You make it sound like it’s going to be a bloodbath! I’m sure there will be plenty of children there.”</p><p>“Children who came out of the womb doing toe loops,” he grumbled.</p><p>Dany just laughed. “It’ll be fine. When I inevitably bust my arse, you can laugh and tell me, ‘I told you so.’”</p><p>He shook his head, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “If you lose a bloody finger, I am <em>not </em>liable.”</p><hr/><p>In the end, Dany didn’t lose a finger.</p><p>She did sprain her ankle, however, almost as soon as she stepped out onto the ice. Thankfully, Jon did <em>not</em> rub it in her face. He was a perfect gentleman, helping her off the ice and then carrying her back to his truck. After rounding up Ghost, who was confused about having his play time abruptly cut short, Jon eased the skate off her foot to look at the damage. He determined it was likely sprained but decided they needed an expert opinion to make sure it wasn’t broken.</p><p>First, he took Ghost home. It was her first time seeing where he lived: a small, one-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood not too far from the heart of Winterfell. After Ghost was secured, he drove her to urgent care.</p><p>Dany felt horribly foolish and embarrassed, limping inside the building on Jon’s arm. He offered to carry her again, but that would have been even more humiliating. By the time the attending maester could take a look at her, her ankle had swollen slightly; the woman confirmed what Jon had already deduced: it was only a sprain. Dany was instructed to rest and ice her ankle for the next 24 hours and take ibuprofen as needed. Then she was to wear a walking boot for a week.</p><p>With her newly acquired walking boot, Jon helped her back to his truck to drive her home. When she assured him she would be fine taking the elevator up to her apartment, he wouldn’t hear it and got out to help her. At her apartment door, she unlocked her door and hopped inside, trying not to put any weight on her sprained ankle. All three cats (even Drogon, who’d finally ventured beyond the safety of her closet) came running to greet her, probably hoping to be fed, but the moment they saw Jon, Viserion and Rhaegal darted back into her bedroom. Only Drogon stayed, plopping down on his haunches to watch them curiously. If his tail twitch was any indication, he was mildly annoyed by Jon’s intrusion.</p><p>Shutting the door, Jon helped Dany out of her coat then took her arm to help her to the couch. “I can do it,” she insisted, but he ignored her, carefully lowering her onto the couch.</p><p>“Let me get you some ice.” Before she could object, he was already walking into her kitchen. When she heard him rummaging in the freezer, she sighed. Drogon finally approached her to investigate the situation. He sniffed at her injured foot, and she made a face at him.</p><p>“Next time, don’t let me do something so stupid as to try ice skating for the first time in front of a cute guy,” she muttered to her cat, who jumped up on the couch beside her.</p><p>“Did you say something?” Jon asked, seeming to materialize next to the couch. He had a makeshift ice pack in hand, one of her kitchen dish rags wrapped around some ice cubes. Her face went hot.</p><p>“Nope, not a thing,” she replied automatically, and he took one of the couch pillows to place it on the coffee table. Gingerly, he took her injured foot in hand and lifted it onto the pillow. His hands were cold to the touch, but at the moment they felt nice against her inflamed skin. She blushed as he pushed her sock down to expose more of her ankle and arranged the ice pack over it. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Only ice it for 20 minutes,” he told her.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I know, I heard the maester.”</p><p>Drogon jumped down from the couch then, boldly walking up to Jon who was still crouched beside the coffee table. He went stiff as the cat sniffed him, only relaxing once Drogon rubbed his body against Jon’s shin. Dany smiled. “Aw. I think he likes you now.”</p><p>Distrustfully, Jon reached a hand out to pet Drogon’s head. “I haven’t forgotten what happened the first time we met.”</p><p>She laughed. “Yes, but you’re taking care of his mum now. He’s ready to let bygones be bygones.”</p><p>Jon only shook his head and stood. He took a moment to survey all the decorations she’d put up since he’d last been inside her apartment. “I like what you did with the tree,” he said, nodding toward it. “You have a very...eclectic assortment of ornaments.”</p><p>“Thanks. I got them from my mum. When I was a kid, she was very adamant about not having any matching ornaments.” She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject. “Thank you for your help with this,” she said, gesturing to her foot. “Sorry today was such a bust.”</p><p>Amused, he snorted, cutting his eyes back to her. “Literally, huh?”</p><p>She pinched her lips together, trying to remain dignified. “And thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”</p><p>He only smiled faintly. “I should get going. You going to be OK by yourself?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Though getting to work will be difficult. I’ll have to call out tomorrow, I guess.” Stannis would <em>not </em>be pleased about that.</p><p>Jon frowned. “Want me to drive you so you don’t have to walk back and forth?”</p><p>She was shaking her head before he’d even finished the question. “No, I can’t bother you like that. You have your own job.”</p><p>“It’s just a coffee shop,” he said with a dismissive laugh. “I can move my shifts around.”</p><p>“No, I can just get an Uber the rest of the week. It’s not a big deal. But thank you. Really.” Her face colored again. “You’ve been really nice to me, even though I’m sure I’ve been more trouble than I’m worth.” She laughed awkwardly, grabbing the other couch pillow to clutch in her lap.</p><p>He shifted uncomfortably, his hands going into his pockets. “You haven’t been any trouble, Dany.” He cracked a smile. “Though we clearly need to work on your aim <em>and</em> your balance.”</p><p>“Hey!” she protested, indignant. “I got you in the face, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Only because I let you,” he retorted, and she glared at him, eliciting a chuckle. “You sure you’re good on your own?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll be fine.” She was touched by his concern. It was more than Viserys had shown her, and he was her brother. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left, other than a text to let her know he’d arrived safely in Lys, and that had been over a week ago.</p><p>Jon bent down to pet Drogon one last time before straightening. “I’ll talk to you later then,” he said, and she nodded. He headed for the door, but once he opened it, he called back to her, “Oh, and Dany?” She craned her neck around to look at him. He smirked. “Told you so.”</p><p>He’d shut the door before the couch pillow could hit him in the face, his laughter fading down the hallway as he walked away.</p><hr/><p>Jon texted her every day to check on her and make sure she was getting along OK in her walking boot. She jokingly responded, “Yes dad,” but truthfully it was nice that he cared. For the first time in a while, she felt seen. And that meant a lot to her, especially this time of year.</p><p><em>If you need a ride anywhere this week, just text me</em>, he told her.</p><p>She bit her lip then replied, <em>Thanks, but I guess our bet is off for now.</em></p><p><em>Conceding defeat?</em> he asked.</p><p><em>Never!<br/></em> <em>But with my foot and all I’m probably useless for the foreseeable future.</em></p><p>He replied a moment later with a mysterious: <em>Leave it to me</em>.</p><p>Friday evening, after work, she got a phone call while she was curled up on the couch with Viserion, watching TV. She checked her phone and saw it was the number for the assisted living facility where her great uncle Aemon lived, the Valyrian Villages at Dragonstone. With a smile, she answered. “Uncle Aemon!”</p><p>His old, craggy voice crackled over the line. “Dany, how’s my favorite niece?”</p><p>She laughed, scratching Viserion’s ear. “I’m your only niece.”</p><p>“You’d still be my favorite,” he insisted, like he always said when they did this little bit. “How’s everything going? You settled in to your new place OK?”</p><p>“Yes, it’s going pretty well. Well, I did sprain my ankle trying to ice skate recently, but I’m OK,” she hurriedly said before he could worry.</p><p>“Hm, well, the North can be a pretty unforgiving place,” he mumbled. “Just be careful.”</p><p>“You’ve been here before?”</p><p>“Oh, years ago. A lifetime ago, really. I much prefer Dragonstone,” he said with a chuckle. “You making any friends?”</p><p>Dany thought of Jon and Missandei and smiled. “A couple so far.”</p><p>“Good. Well, I just wanted to check in on you and also let you know I received your gift yesterday.”</p><p>She gasped, excited. “Oh, did you? Did you like it? I thought of you the moment I saw it—”</p><p>“Shh, don’t spoil it, girl. I haven’t opened it yet,” he laughed warmly. “I wanted to save it for Christmas day, so I have something to open.”</p><p>She mimed zipping her lips closed, even though he couldn’t see her. “I won’t say another word. But you have to let me know what you think as soon as you open it.”</p><p>“I will,” he promised, and she smiled wistfully, suddenly feeling a little guilty and a lot homesick. Maybe she should have flown back to Dragonstone to spend Christmas with him. He was alone, too, and who knew how many Christmases he had left? But the move to Winterfell had taken most of her savings, and she didn’t want to touch her inheritance, not if she could help it.</p><p>After they talked for a few more minutes, Aemon finally said goodbye. When Dany ended the call, she saw she had a new text from Jon: <em>Be ready tomorrow at 1 pm. Dress extra warmly.</em></p><p>Mystified, Dany asked him what they would be doing, but he refused to divulge any more information. Despite her irritation at his tight-lippedness, he had piqued her curiosity. It was hard to sleep that night as she imagined what he had planned.</p><p>The next day, at 1 p.m. exactly, she took the elevator down to the ground floor, still hobbling along in her walking boot. Jon was waiting for her at the curb beside his truck, ready to help her inside. She smiled shyly at him, thanking him as he boosted her into the passenger side.</p><p>“Where are we going?” she asked curiously as he pulled onto the street, but he shook his head.</p><p>“You’ll see when we get there,” was all he said, and she huffed in exasperation, as if she wasn’t actually as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. To her surprise, Jon drove them out of the city. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had in mind. Her knee bounced with nervous energy, and she reached over to change the station from talk radio to Christmas music. When Jon cut her a look, she smiled innocently. He acquiesced with a grunt, shaking his head to himself, and she began to hum along, watching the snowy landscape pass by her window. It had snowed again a couple days ago, piling on top of the first snowfall that still lingered.</p><p>Finally, Jon turned onto an access road that led them into the Wolfswood. They passed a sign, but it was covered in snow, so Dany couldn’t read what it said. She looked across the seat at him, and he grimaced. “This isn’t as sketchy as it looks, I promise.”</p><p>She laughed. “I believe you. Just know this walking boot is heavier than it looks and can probably do some damage.”</p><p>He smirked at that. Soon, the woods thinned to an opening, a snowy field stretching out as far as she could see. Jon drove slowly, following a narrow path that had been cleared in the snow. As they crested a hill, Dany blinked, her mouth parting in wonder. Just ahead sat a sleigh, strapped to a big, beautiful horse. In the front seat of the sleigh was a driver, bundled up in a black peacoat and top hat. Jon approached the carriage from the rear so as not to startle the horse, and when he parked, Dany turned her wide-eyed wonderment on him.</p><p>“Is this for us?” He nodded, and she gasped. “A <em>sleigh ride</em>?”</p><p>“The city always does this around Christmas. The sleigh ride takes you through the Wolfswood.” He looked unsure suddenly. “Is this OK?”</p><p>“Are you serious? This is incredible! A sleigh ride in <em>actual snow</em>! Come on, let’s go,” she urged, unbuckling her seatbelt. Jon was out of the truck and at her door before she could jump down into the snow.</p><p>“Whoa, watch your foot,” he chided, reaching out to lift her into his arms. Her face went red, and she clung to his neck, getting a whiff of tobacco and pine.</p><p>“I can walk. It’s almost healed,” she insisted as he carried her the distance to the sleigh, but he shook his head.</p><p>“I just don’t want you to get your sock wet in the snow, or it’s going to be a long, miserable sleigh ride.” He set her down on the bench in the back. The driver twisted around to smile at her.</p><p>“‘Ello, miss,” he greeted, tipping his hat to her. She laughed at his affected accent.</p><p>“Hello,” she said, shifting over on the bench so Jon could join her.</p><p>“My name is Davos.”</p><p>“Hi Davos. I’m Dany. This is Jon.”</p><p>“Oh, I know all about Jon,” Davos replied with a cheeky wink.</p><p>“Family friend,” Jon explained as he settled down on the bench. He felt solid and warm beside her.</p><p>“Feel free to cozy up under that blanket there, it gets pretty nippy on these rides,” Davos directed. Dany glanced to her right to find a flannel blanket, and she shook it out to drape over her and Jon’s lap. “Speaking of—” Davos grabbed two tumblers from the front bench and passed them back. “Hot cider to help keep you warm.”</p><p>Dany made a sound of delight, happily taking the tumbler from him. She could feel the warmth even through her gloves. “Thank you,” she said, carefully taking a sip of the spiced cider. It burned a delicious, sweet trail down her throat into her belly, and she hummed in appreciation. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”</p><p>“That’s the missus’ special recipe right there. I like to add a little whiskey to it myself,” he said conspiratorially, and she laughed.</p><p>“That does sound good,” she agreed, glancing at Jon. He sipped his own cider, giving her a quick smile when he noticed her looking. That warmth expanded in her chest and belly.</p><p>“We all set?” Davos asked.</p><p>“Aye, I think so,” Jon answered, looking at Dany for confirmation. She nodded eagerly, burrowing down under the blanket with her cider. Taking the reins in hand, Davos signaled to the horse. The sleigh gave a slight lurch as it began to move, slowly propelled forward. The horse gradually picked up its pace, till it was moving at a steady trot. The sound of the runners of the sleigh sluicing through the pristine snow was oddly hypnotic and relaxing. The wind was biting against her face, and she blew onto her cider, creating steam to warm her exposed lips and nose. The snowy hills around them eventually gave way to the Wolfswood as Davos directed the horse through a well-worn path, and Dany turned her head this way and that to admire the view.</p><p>Occasionally Davos would speak up, offering little anecdotes and tidbits about the land or landmarks they passed. Dany listened and offered commentary when appropriate, but otherwise she was happy to sit back and enjoy the ride. She felt Jon’s gaze on her more than once, trying to assess if she was having a good time, and every time she caught his eye, she gave him a grateful smile. Soon, she was shivering, her cider having cooled considerably. When he noticed, he scooted closer, pressed against her from knee to hip, and he shifted his tumbler to his other hand so he could put his arm around her shoulders.</p><p>“This OK?” he asked, and she nodded, biting down on her lip to stop a grin from spreading across her face. Unable to resist, she snuggled against his side, and his arm tightened around her.</p><p>This, more than everything else they’d done, felt like an actual date. Every other activity, he’d participated in almost grudgingly, since she’d practically twisted his arm into agreeing because of their bet. But this had been his idea—she’d even give him an out with her injured ankle—but he’d wanted to do this. For her. And it was far more romantic than anything she’d planned.</p><p>She hated to get her hopes up, but...she was beginning to think Jon Snow might just have a crush on her.</p><hr/><p>The knock came on her front door before the oven timer went off. “Shoot,” she muttered, opening the oven door to peak in at the cookies that were still baking. Deciding they needed another minute, Dany turned off the timer with 20 seconds left; she would take the cookies out after she answered the door.</p><p>Whipping her apron off over her head, she smoothed her hair down as she passed a mirror on her way out of the kitchen. Her face was flushed from the heat of the oven—and probably a little from excitement.</p><p>Her heart racing, Dany opened her front door just as Jon went to knock again. He dropped his hand and smiled. “Hey.”</p><p>Her own smile felt weird and unnatural on her face. “Hi. Come in,” she said, ushering him inside. As he breezed by her, she shuddered slightly; the cold air from outside seemed to cling to him like a second coat.</p><p>As part of her mission to make him love Christmas as much as she did, she had invited him to her apartment for cookies and hot chocolate enjoyed in front of her fireplace. It was only an electric fireplace, since she was on the fourth floor of an apartment complex, but it still captured the ambiance she was going for.</p><p>“I can take your jacket,” she offered. Jon stripped out of his coat, handing it to her. When she got a look at his sweater, she balked.</p><p>“What the hell is that?” she demanded, glaring at his chest.</p><p>Confused, he glanced down at himself. “Er. My sweater?”</p><p>“You were supposed to wear an <em>ugly </em>Christmas sweater.” Instead, all he had on was a basic red knit sweater.</p><p>He shrugged. “This is the ugliest Christmas sweater I have.”</p><p>“That’s not even ugly!” Draping his coat over the back of the couch, she gave him an exasperated look. “And now I just look ridiculous.” She, on the other hand, had plenty of ugly, tacky Christmas sweaters, and for tonight, she’d chosen a green sweater that was trimmed in gold garland, making her look like a Christmas tree.</p><p>He gave her a once-over. “No, you don’t. Not much, anyway.” At her <em>ugh</em>, he laughed. “You look ridiculous in a cute way, Dany.”</p><p>To hide her blush, she walked past him, her gait hampered only slightly by her walking boot. She’d gotten pretty good at maneuvering in it.</p><p>“How’s your ankle?” he asked, following her. Viserion, who was lingering in the doorway of her bedroom, retreated deeper into her room at the sight of an intruder. Drogon was curled up asleep on the cat tower, and Rhaegal was loafing in front of the fireplace, enjoying the mild warmth emanating from it.</p><p>“It’s mostly better. The maester said I could take the boot off tomorrow,” she said, turning to face him. Tomorrow would be a week since the ill-advised ice skating attempt. It was the day before Christmas Eve; Dany would have preferred to invite Jon over then, but she knew he likely had family obligations for the holiday. Unlike her.</p><p>“You managed to get around alright this week?” Jon asked, still frowning at her walking boot.</p><p>“Yes, though I quickly realized how expensive taking an Uber to work and back every day would get, so I switched to the bus.” She shook her head at the memory of all the skin-crawling leers she got from more than a few bus riders, even though she’d been covered head to toe in bulky winter gear. “Truthfully, I’ll be glad when I can go back to walking to work.”</p><p>“I told you I could have driven you,” he argued.</p><p>“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have minded.”</p><p>She folded her arms over her chest stubbornly. “And make you rearrange your whole schedule?” He shrugged like it was nothing. “You barely know me, Jon. Why would you do that?”</p><p>Now it was his turn to blush. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, and he sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”</p><p>Dany blinked, first glancing at the fireplace, then she gasped in sudden realization. “Oh, <em>shit</em>!”</p><p>She hobbled into the kitchen as fast as she could, snatching up the pot holder and yanking the oven door open. A wave of heat and smoke billowed in her face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, carefully but quickly grabbing the cooking sheet to pull it out of the oven. She set it down on the counter and slammed the oven door shut before turning it off.</p><p>Jon had followed her to offer his help, waving the faint smoke away from his face. “Cookies?”</p><p>She stared forlornly at the burnt sugar cookies. “They were. I made them from scratch. We were supposed to decorate them. Now they’re ruined.”</p><p>Jon came closer to survey the damage. “Not completely.” He pointed at a cookie that was only slightly scorched. “That one looks edible still. Kinda. And that one, if you cut off the side.” He pointed to another one that was only half black.</p><p>She shook her head, pretty sure it was a lost cause. “Well, at least we still have hot chocolate.”</p><p>“Oh?” he asked as she stirred a pot on the stove, set to simmer. He looked at it skeptically. “<em>Just</em> hot chocolate?”</p><p>She scoffed. “I’m no amateur hot chocolate maker. It’s got spiced rum and butterscotch schnapps, too.”</p><p>He made a sound of approval, and she ladled some into two mugs, topping each off with a handful of mini marshmallows. The two of them returned to the living room, Jon carrying both his mug and hers. He waited till she was situated on the couch before handing over her hot chocolate, then he sat down beside her, his elbows braced on his knees as he blew on his mug, then he took a sip. After swallowing, he groaned. “Aye, that’s good.”</p><p>She knew he’d meant nothing sexual about it, but the gruff sound he’d made had her feeling flushed all over, a faint pulse of desire settling between her thighs. She shifted slightly, embarrassed by her reaction.</p><p>When he glanced at her, she barked out a laugh. “You have hot chocolate in your mustache.”</p><p>Sheepish, he wiped at it, managing a chuckle. “This stuff is strong. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.” He flashed a smile to show he was only joking.</p><p>Cheeks blazing, Dany tried to take a nonchalant sip of her hot chocolate and promptly scalded her tongue. “Ow.” He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged it off, blowing on the hot liquid before taking another, more cautious sip. It <em>was </em>rather boozy. She coughed slightly. “Maybe I was a little too generous with my pours,” she admitted. “But in my defense, we were supposed to have festive Christmas cookies to help sop up the alcohol.”</p><p>He smiled, sitting back to get comfortable. “It’s OK. I like my hot chocolate strong.”</p><p>“You sit around drinking a lot of hot chocolate?” she asked, eyebrow arched.</p><p>“Well, not since I was a kid, truthfully. But if I did, I’d definitely want it to be half alcohol,” he said with a laugh. “My aunt still makes it for my younger cousins at Christmas.”</p><p>“What about your mum?” she asked. Right away, she knew she had misstepped. Jon stiffened, and she froze, not sure what to do or say. After a moment, he cleared his throat.</p><p>“My mum passed away when I was six,” he said quietly, and her heart lurched into her throat.</p><p>“Oh my gods, Jon. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—” But she should have. When he was shopping for Christmas gifts, he’d only picked out gifts for his aunt and uncle and cousins, no mention of his parents. At the time, she’d simply assumed he’d already had gifts for them, but now she felt like an idiot.</p><p>He offered a small smile. “You couldn’t have known. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”</p><p>She chewed on her lip. “Do you...want to talk about it? If not, I completely understand.”</p><p>He shrugged, his gaze focused elsewhere. “It’s been a long time now. It’s not still fresh or anything. But...she died in a car crash. Just before Christmas. She was doing some last-minute shopping. It was snowing pretty hard. Another driver slid into her car.” His voice had roughened, and he cleared his throat again. “She didn’t survive.”</p><p>Dany’s throat tightened with emotion. <em>Gods. </em>No wonder he hated Christmas. And here she was, trying to force it down his throat. She was a complete arsehole.</p><p>He rubbed at his neck. “She loved Christmas. What mum doesn’t, right? She was always singing songs and everything. Every time I hear a Christmas song, it’s hard not to think of her. I just—well, anyway. I never knew my father, so Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn took me in, became my legal guardians. That’s why I’m so close to them and my cousins.”</p><p>She swallowed convulsively. “Jon…” She trailed off, not sure what to say. “I never would have—all this—” She gestured around them helplessly.</p><p>He shook his head. “I told you, don’t apologize. I don’t normally care for Christmas because it does make me think of my mum, but...this year hasn’t been so bad.” He smiled again. “This has been a nice distraction. <em>You’ve </em>been a nice distraction.”</p><p>She held his gaze for a beat, her heart rate accelerating. Unwrapping one hand from her mug, she tentatively reached for his. He released his mug to let her slip her hand in his. His palm was rough and calloused, but warm, firm. She swallowed again. “I can relate. A little,” she said weakly, staring at their entwined hands. His skin was pale but somehow seemed tan against her own.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>When she glanced at him, he looked curious. She licked her dry lips. “My...my mother passed away, too. Last year.”</p><p>Jon sucked in a breath, and his hand tightened around hers. “Dany,” he murmured. She forged ahead.</p><p>“She died from a pulmonary embolism. It was so sudden. It wasn’t around Christmas, but...she loved Christmas. She’s the reason why I love it so much. Everything about it makes me think of her.” The words were pouring out of her now. “Last year, I was just so sad and heartsick. It was my first Christmas without her. I couldn’t even celebrate. This year, I wanted to try my best to remember her. I wanted to celebrate Christmas in her honor, celebrate it how we used to. I came north with my brother, hoping it would help feel a little more—real, I suppose—but then Viserys left for a trip to Lys, and...I didn’t have anyone. He’s my only family left. Well, Viserys, and my Uncle Aemon, but he’s in a nursing home in Dragonstone. He’s too old to travel, and now I’m too broke—”</p><p>“Dany,” Jon interrupted her, and she stopped abruptly, looking at him with wide eyes. He smiled softly, encouragingly. “Breathe.”</p><p>Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a breath, smiling slightly. “Sorry. I just—all that to say that...I understand. And that...being with you has really...well, it’s really made it feel like Christmas again.”</p><p>Setting his hot chocolate on the coffee table, Jon shifted on the couch to face her more fully. His other hand covered hers, still tucked in his. “I’m so sorry, Dany. Losing a mother, especially so unexpectedly, is a pain that never really goes away. Of course, you would want to try to be as close to her as possible this time of year.” He shook his head, seemingly at himself. “I guess I do the opposite and try to forget.” He grimaced. “I wish I hadn’t been such a prick to you that first time at the coffee shop.”</p><p>She gave a weak laugh. “You really <em>were </em>a prick.”</p><p>He laughed, too. “Aye, sometimes I’m like that around a pretty woman.”</p><p>Her face went hot at the compliment, but she groaned. “Please tell me you weren’t trying to neg me.”</p><p>His brow furrowed. “Trying to what?”</p><p>“You know, insult me just to make me like you.”</p><p>He looked baffled. “Does that usually work on you?”</p><p>“No!” She laughed.</p><p>“I thought you were pretty, but you were <em>way </em>too chipper, especially that bloody early. Honestly, I was glad to see you leave that morning,” he griped.</p><p>Her mouth dropped. “Wow! You’re really bad at this.”</p><p>Jon chuckled, gently prying the mug out of her hand to put it down beside his. “I started to warm to you at the tree lot, though.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she snorted. “<em>Warm</em> to me, huh? Lucky me.”</p><p>When she met his gaze, there was an intensity there that made her catch her breath. “I’m a little more than warm to you now, Dany,” he said, his voice low, then he immediately winced. “That was not as sauve as it sounded in my head—”</p><p>“No, it was,” she assured him, a little breathless. He cracked a smile, only briefly, before it faded. She found herself leaning toward him, and realized he was doing the same. Now she could taste the sweetness of the chocolate and the butterscotch on his breath. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and her fingers twitched, eager to slide across his thigh, to feel the muscles she’d only admired so far, always hugged so tightly by his impossibly skinny jeans.</p><p>“I—” There was a rough catch to his voice, and he cleared his throat. “I know we were just discussing some rather heavy stuff a moment ago, but...is it OK if I kiss you?”</p><p>“Please,” she whispered, not even a little bit embarrassed by the quaver in her voice. At her plea, his nostrils flared, his pupils dilating. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips parting hers. His hand untangled from hers to cup her cheek, and she whimpered when his tongue grazed hers. His beard was softer than it looked, tickling her lip and chin, and she reached a hand up to comb her fingers through it. Curling her fingers, she pulled on the short bristles slightly, and he inhaled sharply through his nose—then his tongue was pushing deeper into her mouth: demanding, hungry.</p><p>Truthfully, she wouldn’t have expected this kind of aggression from someone like Jon Snow. He was normally so...laid back. Subdued. But there was nothing subdued about the way he was kissing her now; he kissed her like a man starved. When he nipped at her bottom lip, pinching it between his teeth, she moaned, hands scrabbling at his shoulders for purchase. He groaned in answer, angling her head back to sweep his tongue into her mouth again, and she had no choice but to let him take what he wanted from her. His other hand had slipped along the outside of her thigh, pushing up under the hem of her sweater to touch the bare skin of her waist.</p><p>“Jon,” she gasped against his mouth as his thumb dipped under the waistband of her black jeans, rubbing back and forth over hip bone. Goosebumps erupted all over her flesh.</p><p>He tempered his kiss, easing back just enough so she could assert herself, let her have a taste. Her tongue stroked over his, and she felt his lips curl against hers in a brief smile. For some reason, the reaction made her absolutely feral.</p><p>She went to straddle him but forgot about the walking boot on her foot, misjudging how much clearance she needed to get her leg up and over his. She nailed him in the kneecap with the hard edge of her boot, making his leg jump. He yelped at the unexpected jolt, and she startled, their noses butting together. With a gasp, she jerked her head back. “Sorry!”</p><p>Jon was already laughing, though. “It’s OK! But, seven hells, you weren't kidding about that thing doing some damage.” He looked down and touched her walking boot. “Would it set you back in your recovery if we take this off for the night?”</p><p>She shook her head eagerly. “I take it off to sleep, anyway.”</p><p>He met her eyes, his gaze heated. “I don’t really plan for us to do a lot of sleeping tonight.”</p><p>She couldn’t help it; she let out a high-pitched giggle, even though she was already soaking through her panties. “Now, <em>that</em> was straight out of a cheesy bodice ripper—”</p><p>He growled, silencing her laughter with another kiss. Then he was standing, scooping her into his arms. “Oh!” her gasp was muffled by his mouth, and she clung to his neck as he carried her toward her bedroom, bridal-style. He momentarily broke the kiss to make sure he didn’t step on Rhaegal by the fireplace then again as he maneuvered her through the doorway, making sure not to hit her injured foot against the frame, but he nearly dropped her when Viserion went streaking through his legs.</p><p>“Fucking hell!” he barked, jostling her in his arms to kick the door shut behind them. “You have too many damn cats!”</p><p>“Shhh,” she shushed on a giddy laugh. She felt heady already, with desire or spiced rum, or both, she didn’t know. “Or else they’ll hear you, and they’ll never let you forget the insult.”</p><p>With a huff, he set her down on the edge of her bed. “Well, they have all night to plot their revenge,” he retorted, lifting her leg into the air. Then, very carefully, he unstrapped the walking boot, pulling it off her foot. Setting it down, he peeled off her candy cane-patterned sock and gingerly caressed her ankle. He met her gaze. “Good?”</p><p>Chills went through her as his long fingers wrapped around her ankle, and she nodded, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. He set her foot down then lifted up her other foot to peel off that sock next. Once she was rid of both, he reached for the hem of her sweater. At his questioning glance, she nodded again, and he pulled it up and over her head, the sleeves slipping off her raised arms. As he dropped the sweater on the floor, she caught a compulsive smile flicker across his mouth before he caught it.</p><p>“What?” she asked, and he shook his head.</p><p>“Nothing.” His smile flickered again. “It’s just never been so easy to undress a Christmas tree before.”</p><p>She slugged him in the arm, making him laugh. When she stood, he caught her arms. “Careful,” he said as she shifted her weight onto her healing foot. Once she was sure it could bear her weight with no problem, she reached for his sweater and tugged it up, making him lift his arms over his head. Tossing it aside, she stared at his bare torso, mesmerized.</p><p>He was a dream. Sculpted by the gods, he had to be. She couldn’t resist; she pressed her hands to his pectoral muscles, finding them hard and unyielding, and dragged her fingers down his (<em>six-pack!</em>) abs.</p><p>Growing self-conscious under her blatant admiration, Jon took her hands in his and pinned them behind her. “Wait,” she objected, but it was a weak protest as he brought his mouth to her neck, tongue and teeth scraping over her pulse point. She gasped, straining her neck to give him access. He kissed down to her collar bone, then farther down to her cleavage, his tongue dipping between the swells of her breasts, pushed together by her bra (she was <em>so </em>glad she’d had the foresight to wear the lacy black one). He groaned, tasting the sweat of her skin, and wrapped one hand around both her wrists, tugging back on her arms just slightly. Her back arched even more, her breasts thrust toward his mouth, and he brought his free hand up to her tit, cupping it through the thin silky cup. She struggled against his grip, wanting to touch him, to run her hands through his hair like she’d been dying to do for weeks now, but he held tight.</p><p>His finger dipped underneath the cup, the blunt edge of his nail grazing over her pebbled nipple. She made an embarrassing sound, the bud puckering even more under his attention. When he nudged the cup down to expose her nipple, his hot mouth was there to claim it, circling it with his tongue. With a whimper, Dany squeezed her thighs together, sharpening the slick pulses in her clit and deep in her cunt.</p><p>“Jon,” she pleaded, pulling against his restraint. Finally, he released her, and she wrapped her arms around his head, hugging him close as he sucked her nipple between his lips. She felt every pull and tug of his mouth between her thighs. Impatient, she reached for his pants, unfastening and unzipping the fly. He did the same with hers, with much more speed and efficiency. She had to abandon her quest when he began to pull her skinny jeans down, wriggling them over the flare of her hips. He had to squat to help her get the restrictive pants off her healing ankle with care. As he stood, his nose and mouth grazed over her cunt through her panties. Her knees nearly buckled, black spots dancing in front of her eyes, and she had to balance herself on his shoulders. He circled his arms around her, and his fingers deftly undid the clasp of her bra, then he dragged the straps down her shoulders.</p><p>His hooded eyes darkened as they took in her bare breasts, and he brushed the backs of his knuckles over them, delicately tracing the slope and peak of each one. “Gods, Dany. You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, dragging his knuckles back and forth over her pink nipples.</p><p>She trembled, leaning forward to kiss his chest, right on the sternum, and her hands ventured lower to finish what she had started. He helped her push his pants down, having to peel the material off his muscular thighs and calves. Her mouth watered when she glimpsed the hard outline of his cock through his dark gray boxer-briefs. When she wrapped her hand around what she could, squeezing him through the cotton, a pained hiss susurrated through his teeth.</p><p>She couldn’t wait anymore. She grabbed the sides of his boxer-briefs in each hand and pulled them down, revealing first the wet, flushed tip of his cock then the darkly colored shaft. His cock hung forward, heavy under its own weight, and she took it in hand, marveling at the velvetiness of his skin, the heat and heft of him in her palm.</p><p>He groaned as she stroked him. “Dany—”</p><p>She was suddenly in his arms again as he kneeled with her on the bed, laying her down across it. He stripped the rest of the way out of his boxer-briefs, doing an awkward dance on his knees to get them off. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat, and he huffed, feigning a scowl at her, before he reached for her panties. She lifted her hips to help him, wincing as the damp crotch peeled away from her cunt, leaving her wet and exposed. Jon flung the skimpy garment over the side of the bed, and she planted her feet on the bed, legs bowed around him as he leaned over her, one hand braced beside her head.</p><p>He captured her mouth in another kiss, this one more urgent, darker, teeth digging into her lips, catching around her tongue as he sucked on it. She arched under him, and, growing impatient, he released her mouth to claim one of her breasts next, lips parting wide. His tongue laved over her nipple before he sucked it between his lips. His teeth worried the sensitive bud, and she moaned, threading her fingers through his wild, loose curls.</p><p>She felt an ache between her legs, an emptiness needing to be filled. “Jon—I have condoms—nightstand,” she panted brokenly, crying out sharply when he bit down on her other nipple, pulling it between his teeth. Quickly, he soothed her with his tongue then did it again. She grabbed at his broad back, knees banding around his waist as she bumped her hips against his, rubbing her cunt against his cock.</p><p>He groaned and pushed against her, then shook his head. “Wait. Just...not yet,” he murmured, kissing between her breasts and down her belly. Her ab muscles quivered under his lips, and when his beard grazed her pelvis, she clutched at the covers.</p><p>Oh gods, he was actually going to...She whimpered, and her thighs opened of their own accord when he went to settle between them, having to slide halfway off the bed to do so. She watched him, his eyes flicking up to hers, and she felt the hotness of his breath on her cunt, making her tremble uncontrollably. He stroked her hip bone as if to calm her, then he placed a kiss on her puffy folds, his tongue slipping between them. As he traced the length of her slit, she jerked against him, straining off the bed when he lapped at her cunt, the eager sounds of his mouth moving through the sticky mess of her juices somehow the most obscene yet erotic thing she’d ever heard.</p><p>“Oh my gods,” she moaned, throwing her head back as she squeezed her eyes closed. She arched into his mouth, and he hummed, the vibration reverberating deep inside her cunt. When she clenched around nothing, she whined. “Jon.” He licked her again, his tongue pushing inside her, and she gasped, her cunt splitting easily around him. He fucked her just like that, the scruff on his chin chafing the soft fleshy swells of her arse cheeks as his mouth pressed firmly into her cunt. She reached for him, and he took her hand, tangling it through his curls, encouraging her to pull. When she did, he groaned louder and slurped at her, hungry and desperate. He stopped to sling her thighs over his shoulders before returning to her cunt, licking and tonguing her until her cum was slipping down between her cheeks, soaking her covers.</p><p>“Jon,” she begged, tugging at his curls until he finally, <em>finally</em>, relented, dragging his tongue up to her clit. She almost broke then and there, crying out in shock and relief as pleasure jolted through her at that first glance of his tongue. He held her down to the bed, tongue flicking across her clit, and the pleasure crested hard and fast. Dany bucked and writhed, grinding her cunt against his face. “Jon, oh gods—” she cried out again. When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she came, a strangled moan catching in her throat as waves crashed through her, rippling hard from her cunt outward. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounding so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else for a moment. Eventually, it faded into a dull thud against her rib cage, and she felt the gentle lap of his tongue on her cunt.</p><p>Dany shuddered again, another frisson of pleasure pulsating deep in her cunt. She let out a raspy moan and arched underneath him, her thighs hugging his head lovingly.</p><p>“Yes,” she panted, her head spinning. Jon eased her legs off his shoulders to stand up, crawling back on the bed on top of her. His beard glistened with her juices, his lips red and shiny. She flushed as he scrubbed a hand down his beard to wipe off as much of it as he could, which wasn’t much.</p><p>She’d never wanted a man as badly as she wanted him.</p><p>“Nightstand,” she reminded him hoarsely. His mouth quirked slightly, and he leaned toward the nightstand, yanking open the drawer. He found the strip of condoms quickly and managed to rip one free one-handed. Sitting back on his haunches, he ripped it open and got the slippery condom out to roll it down over his straining shaft.</p><p>Once his cock was sheathed, he leaned forward, nudging her thighs open wider with his own. His tip brushed against her cunt, and he reached down to guide himself inside her, easily pushing the head through her lips. As he pushed into her, her breath hitched, and she grabbed onto his biceps, the muscle flexed as he held himself above her. He thrust forward gently, his cock cleaving her, stretching her inner muscles. She closed her eyes, mouth opening soundlessly. Gods, he felt <em>big</em>, nice and thick. He went slow, with a careful rocking of his hips, inch by inch, until he was buried inside her. He eased out slightly then pushed forward again, surging in more easily this time. She sucked in a breath and moaned, her body quickly acclimating to him.</p><p>Jon groaned as he stroked himself inside her shallowly. “<em>Fuck</em>, Dany. You’re so tight.”</p><p>She laughed lightly, his cock snug inside her cunt, and he dropped his head forward, groaning again. “I didn’t know if it was me or you,” she gasped as he rocked into her, harder. He kissed her roughly, the taste of her cum still on his tongue, and she moaned softly before he pulled away. She moved her hands to his back, and he shifted on top of her, lowering himself to his elbows so his legs were stretched out behind him, his belly rubbing against hers as he moved inside her at an unhurried pace. Her hands slid down the small of his back, following the slight dip to his arse, and she palmed the shapely cheeks in her hands. She paused there, feeling the flex of his muscles as he thrust forward. Lifting her head up, she peered over his shoulder to where her hands rested, then she dropped her head back with a groan.</p><p>“Gods, you really do have a nice arse.”</p><p>With a rough chuckle, he slipped his hand between her arse and the bed, squeezing her cheek firmly. “So do you.”</p><p>Dany wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling on his arse to get him to thrust into her deeper. He obliged, punching his hips forward. Her breasts jiggled with the force of it, and she gasped, head arching back. “Gods, yes, do it again.”</p><p>He did, and again, and again, and soon he was fucking her hard and fast, his cock moving wetly inside her cunt. She cried out with each hard thrust, his pelvis slapping against the backs of her thighs as he pounded into her. He dropped his face to her neck and groaned, his breath hot and damp on her clammy skin. She could feel the perspiration beading behind her neck, along her hairline, between her breasts. “Jon,” she moaned, fingers digging into his arse so hard she was sure her nails were going to leave puncture marks.</p><p>He pulled out of her suddenly, and her arms and legs flopped to the bed, but then he rolled her onto her side, sliding up behind her. His sweat-slicked chest pressed against her back as he jerked her hips back, lifting her leg to slide his in between. Then she felt him press the tip of his cock against her entrance from behind, and she pushed back on him, both of them moaning in relief as he stretched her open again. “Fuck, Dany,” he grunted, pumping inside her, holding her hip tightly.</p><p>She whimpered into the bed, breathing deeply as he moved inside her cunt, his cock rubbing between her cheeks. She arched forward even more, the head of his cock rubbing the front wall of her cunt. “<em>Yes</em>,” she groaned. Taking the cue, he nearly rolled on top of her just to hit that spot for her. She keened, muffling the sound in the covers, his weight bearing her down into the bed.</p><p>He moved faster, pistoning his cock inside her with quick, hard thrusts. Her cunt squelched around him, and she moaned loudly. “<em>Oh, gods</em>.” She felt the pressure building and squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, Jon—<em>fuck</em>—” Her breath caught in her throat, and then she was coming. Her body convulsed in slow, intense ripples of pleasure, and she curled in on herself. Jon groaned as her cunt cinched tightly around him.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he rasped, shoving himself inside her deeply until his hips stuttered. He gasped and pressed hard against her arse as he emptied himself inside the condom. His cock pulsed deep inside her cunt, and she moaned, still trembling with her own orgasm.</p><p>She didn’t know how long she lay like that, reveling in the aftershocks as Jon caught his breath; she vaguely recalled the moment he slipped out of her, but she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, he was nudging her awake. She blinked her eyes open to find him standing at the side of her bed. He leaned down and kissed her, then handed her a damp washcloth.</p><p>“Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling onto her back to clean between her thighs. Jon disappeared into her bathroom again, and when he returned a moment later, he’d slipped into his boxer-briefs. She felt oddly shy in all her nudity, and, sensing this, he fetched her panties from the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed as she wiggled into them, pulling the edge of the covers over her bare breasts.</p><p>He caught her eye and smiled. “Well.” He laughed suddenly, gruffly. “Sorry. This is another thing I’m shit at, I guess.”</p><p>She smiled, wondering if her hair looked as wild as his did. “I think I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t.”</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Ah, feels kinda awkward to ask but...do you want me to stay the night?”</p><p>Dany blinked, her cheeks going hot. “Oh. I mean—I guess I assumed you would. Unless you have—other obligations? With your family, I mean? I know tomorrow is Christmas Eve and everything,” she babbled nervously, but he shook his head.</p><p>“No. I just have to be at the Christmas tree lot at noon. And take care of Ghost.” He smiled at her, and she returned it. After Jon turned off her bedroom light, they pulled the sheets down on her bed together so they could both climb inside. She was pleased to discover Jon Snow was a cuddler; immediately, he spooned her from behind, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.</p><p>It was so cozy, so peaceful, she found herself quickly drifting off to sleep. In her semi-conscious state, she finally remembered something and blinked her heavy eyes open. “The Christmas tree lot.”</p><p>Jon grunted in question, sounding half-asleep himself. She looked at him over her shoulder, only able to make out his silhouette in the darkness. “Your Christmas Eve shift. I was supposed to cover it if I lost our bet. Does this mean I won?”</p><p>He made a soft sound of amusement. “I guess it does.”</p><p>Smiling widely, she twisted in his embrace to wrap her arms around his waist. “I filled you with Christmas cheer then?”</p><p>He chuckled softly. “Aye, you filled me with something, alright.” Stifling a sigh, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Guess that means I owe you a Christmas carol.”</p><p>Remembering what he’d told her about his mother, she shook her head. “No. Let’s just call it even.”</p><p>He pulled back to look at her. “You sure?”</p><p>She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the scent of him and the faint musk of her on his beard. “Yes. Tonight was prize enough.”</p><hr/><p>“Dany?”</p><p>At her name, she jerked awake. Feeling the solid weight at her back, she looked over her shoulder, disoriented. Jon was awake. He nodded to her nightstand. “Your phone is ringing.”</p><p>She noticed it vibrating then and picked up her phone to look at the caller ID. It was the Valyrian Villages at Dragonstone.<em> Uncle Aemon</em>. Suddenly wide awake, she got out of her bed to grab her robe off her bathroom door knob and slipped it on, quickly belting it at her waist. It would be too weird talking to her great uncle while she was naked and had a man in her bed.</p><p>“Everything OK?” Jon asked her sleepily.</p><p>“Just my great uncle,” she explained before scooping her phone off the nightstand again. As she answered it, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Uncle Aemon!” she greeted, a little short of breath. “Did you finally crack and decide to open my gift?”</p><p>There was silence on the other end, and she frowned, wondering if he’d hung up before she could answer. Then a timid voice she didn’t recognize spoke. “Ah, Miss Targaryen?”</p><p>Confused, she replied, “Yes?” Behind her, Jon sat up and pressed a kiss to her shoulder through her silk robe.</p><p>The man on the other end cleared his throat. “This is Sam Tarly, the director at the Valyrian Villages at Dragonstone.” He cleared his throat again. Dread was already curdling in her stomach. “I—I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, and on Christmas Eve of all days, but I’m...I’m afraid your great uncle, Aemon Targaryen—well, he passed away in his sleep last night.”</p><p>She clutched at the front of her robe. “He—what?”</p><p>“If it’s any consolation, it appears he went peacefully,” Sam offered apologetically.</p><p>“But…” She couldn’t comprehend it. “I just talked to him the other day. He was fine!”</p><p>The bed shifted behind her, and she felt Jon’s hand on her shoulder. Sam cleared his throat nervously. “Well, he <em>was </em>106. I think—I think it was just his time, Miss Targaryen.”</p><p>There was a faint ringing in her ears now, getting louder and louder. Her Uncle Aemon. <em>Dead</em>. It couldn’t be. Intuitively, she knew the director was right; he was old, but she just couldn’t imagine her life without him. She couldn’t accept it.</p><p>“—is that OK with you?”</p><p>She hadn’t realized Sam was still talking. “What?”</p><p>“I was saying that Mr. Targaryen had specified with our staff that on the event of his death, he would like to be cremated. If it’s OK with you, we will take care of that.”</p><p>She opened and closed her mouth. Was she really discussing cremating her own family right now? “I—I guess so,” she croaked out.</p><p>Sam let out a breath on the other end. “And—of course, I know it’s the holidays, you must be very busy, but, ah, when do you think you’ll be able to come retrieve his belongings?”</p><p>Dany squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her hand to her forehead. “I—no, I don’t have anything—I mean, I can, I’ll come right away,” she stammered. “I’ll get a flight out today if I can.” If she could afford it. <em>Gods</em>.</p><p>“Oh. Of course. Whatever works for you, Miss Targaryen,” Sam said hurriedly. “I’ll make sure we have everything packed up and ready to go once you arrive.”</p><p>“OK,” she said numbly. “Is that everything?”</p><p>“I think so.” There was an awkward pause on his end. “Again, I’m so very sorry for your loss, Miss Targaryen. Aemon was one of our most beloved community members. The staff was very fond of him.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, not sure what else to say. Pulling her phone away, she ended the call but stared at the screen for a moment longer.</p><p>“Dany?” Jon asked quietly behind her, and she startled, remembering he was there. The weight of his hand on her shoulder felt heavy. “You alright?”</p><p>She slowly put her phone face down on the nightstand and took a deep breath. “No,” she admitted. “Uncle Aemon, he...he died. Last night.”</p><p>Jon sucked in a breath behind her. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Dany.”</p><p>“He went in his sleep, at least,” she said hollowly.</p><p>He rubbed her back. “Is there anything I can do?”</p><p>She shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I just—I have to book a flight, somehow.” She had a sudden feeling of being suffocated and stood up from the bed to get some space. Her mind was already spinning out ahead of her. All her credit cards were almost maxed out; she was going to have to dip into her heritance to buy this plane ticket. And she needed to tell Viserys, somehow, if she could even get a hold of him. She hadn’t heard from him in weeks at this point.</p><p>Jon shifted to the edge of the bed, dropping his feet to the floor. “OK. How can I help?” he offered readily, and she looked at him.</p><p>“There’s nothing you can do. It’s fine,” she insisted. “You should just go home. I’ll be OK.”</p><p>At that, he looked hurt. “Dany. I want to help.”</p><p>“You can’t,” she said harshly, surprising them both. His head reared back as if he’d been slapped. Suddenly, her eyes felt hot. “I—I appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing you can do. I’m used to doing things on my own, OK? I—I’ve always been alone, and I’ll always be alone. It’s—whatever.”</p><p>His brow furrowed in pain. “You’re not alone—”</p><p>“I am!” she burst out, and her vision blurred. “I have no one! Everyone I love has either left me or died and—and—” Her breath hitched on a sob, her voice breaking, and she covered her face as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “I should have been with him. He was my family, and he was the only one left who gave a damn about me, and I should have been with him for Christmas, not thousands of miles away—” <em>Getting my rocks off with a man</em>, she finished to silently, hating herself. “Instead, he died <em>alone</em>.”</p><p>She heard Jon stand from the bed. “You can’t blame yourself.”</p><p>She swiped angrily at her cheeks and dropped her hand to glare at him. “You were right.”</p><p>“What?” he asked, baffled.</p><p>“You were right to hate this stupid holiday. Christmas is shit, and I should just let it go, stop trying to recapture the past because it’s gone. It’s <em>dead</em>, just like her. And I’ll never get it back.” She sobbed again. “I’ll never get any of them back.”</p><p>Jon moved toward her, but when he touched her arms, she shrugged him off, backing away. She tried to compose herself, even as tears and snot dripped down her face. “Don’t. <em>Please</em>. Just...please go. I have things to do now, and I just, I want to be alone.” It was all she was made for, apparently.</p><p>“Dany, please, don’t push me away. That’s the last thing you need right now,” he begged, but she said nothing, staring at the floor, tears swimming in her eyes.</p><p>Jon dropped his arms and stepped away from her. With a weary sigh, he gathered up his clothes from the floor and silently got dressed. Dany wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging herself, afraid to look at him.</p><p>Before he left, he turned back to her. “If you decide you don’t want to be alone, you can always call me.” With that, he opened her bedroom door. Her cats on the other side scattered, Drogon meowing angrily at his presence.</p><p>When she heard the front door shut, her tears fell harder, and she sank down to the floor to weep.</p><hr/><p>Booking a last-minute flight to Dragonstone on Christmas Eve was neither easy nor cheap. Dany balked at the final price tag, and she had no choice but to move the money from her savings and purchase it.</p><p>Once she had landed in Dragonstone late that night, she’d finally heard from Viserys. In response to her text letting him know Uncle Aemon had died and she was flying to retrieve his belongings, all he’d said was, <em>Damn that’s sad. I’m not due back in Westeros til after the New Year and getting a flight now would be exorbitant. Do you need me to do anything or can you handle everything?</em></p><p>She’d been too angry to respond, so she’d said nothing instead while seriously contemplating selling his Christmas gift on eBay. Since it was so late when she arrived in Dragonstone, she took the airport transportation to the nearest hotel to try to sleep for a few hours. First thing on Christmas morning, she got an Uber to Valyrian Villages at Dragonstone. The nurse at the front desk, Gilly, was kind and understanding, telling her about the little memorial service some of the other residents had held for Aemon the day before, which nearly made Dany burst into tears again. After waiting in the lobby for a few minutes, the director came out to greet her and offer his condolences once more. He had Gilly bring Dany the urn with Aemon’s ashes, as well as a small box containing a few of his belongings. The rest were boxed up and waiting in their storage; Sam offered to keep them until she had made arrangements for them to be shipped to Winterfell.</p><p>Thanking him, Dany took the urn and the one box back to her hotel room to find a moving company that could handle the bulk of her great uncle’s belongings. Everything was closed on Christmas day, of course, but she was able to make a reservation online. His stuff would be shipped two days after Christmas. Once it was in Winterfell, she would figure out what to do with it.</p><p>Since she had to be at the airport for her flight back home at three a.m., she didn’t bother going to sleep. She didn’t think she could even if she tried. Instead, she put Aemon’s urn on the bedside table and went through the small box. It didn’t contain much, just his maester’s chains he always wore, even though he’d long retired, a couple frames containing pictures of her, Viserys and her mother, and a wrapped gift. Dany trailed her fingers over one of the little dragons wearing a Santa hat, recognizing the paper she’d used to wrap the book she’d bought for him. He never got the chance to open it.</p><p>Tears pricked at her eyes, and she sniffled, pulling the maester’s chains out to slip over her head, just to feel closer to him. Lying down on the bed, Dany hugged the pillow to her chest. A wave of loneliness threatened to submerge her, and she reached for her phone, pulling up her texts with Jon. He’d sent her one earlier in the day that’d simply said, <em>I know today is hard. Please call me if you need anything.</em></p><p>She wanted to respond, but she found herself hesitating. He’d been so <em>nice </em>to her, and she’d repaid him with cruelty, pushing him away when he’d only wanted to help, and all because she’d felt guilty and angry, at herself and at the world. She didn’t deserve his kindness.</p><p>Still, she wiped at her cheeks before tapping out a tentative reply: <em>Happy Christmas Jon.</em></p><p>He didn’t respond, but she didn’t expect him to; it was late, and she was sure he was busy with his family. She was glad for him, really. After everything, she was glad he had that.</p><hr/><p>After a five-hour layover in King’s Landing, Dany arrived back in Winterfell late afternoon the day after Christmas. By the time she walked through the door of her apartment, she was exhausted, and her cats were very unhappy with her. Checking their food bowls, she saw that all the extra food she’d left out for them was completely gone.</p><p>“Sorry, guys,” she said as she put Uncle Aemon’s stuff on the table and immediately filled up their bowls before she even took off her coat. Happily, they ran to their bowls, Viserion and Rhaegal trying to snatch up the scraps as Drogon chowed down first. Once they were taken care of, Dany checked her phone and saw she had a new text from Jon. He’d finally responded to her that morning, while she was at the airport in King’s Landing, asking if she was still in Dragonstone; she told him she was waiting for her flight back to Winterfell. His most recent text asked, <em>Are you home yet?</em></p><p><em>Yes,</em> she told him. When he didn’t respond after a few minutes, she stripped out of her clothes and changed directly into her pajamas, with grand plans to sleep through until tomorrow. Maybe even through the New Year, since Stannis had been surprisingly kind enough to give her the week off when she called him earlier to explain her situation.</p><p>As soon as her head hit the pillow, Dany was out.</p><p>Some time later, she was awoken by a knock on the front door, one of the cats meowing unhappily at the disturbance. She jerked up in her bed, groggy and confused. It was dark in her room, so she checked her phone. It was after seven p.m. She had to double check the date to make sure she hadn’t <em>actually </em>slept for an entire day.</p><p>There was another knock on her door, immediately followed by Drogon’s answering meow. This time, Rhaegal joined him. Dany climbed out of her bed and padded out into the living room, the floor cold on her bare feet. When she opened the front door, she was even more confused.</p><p>Jon stood on the other side, wearing his Santa hat from the coffee shop. Behind him was a crowd of people she didn’t know. Her eyes widened, her hand immediately flying to her sleep-mussed hair. “Jon,” she said, bewildered. Everyone was holding a lit candle, she realized with a start. “What’s going on?”</p><p>He coughed into his fist to clear his throat. Then, opening his mouth, he quietly began to sing. A chorus of voices joined him.</p><p>“<em>I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,<br/>J</em><em>ust like the ones I used to know…”</em></p><p>Astonished, Dany gaped at him, her jaw dropping. He held her gaze as he sang, an uncertain shyness crinkling his eyes. It was completely unwarranted; he had a beautiful singing voice.</p><p>
  <em>“With every Christmas card I write,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>May your days be merry and bright,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And may all your Christmases be white…”</em>
</p><p>She couldn’t help it; a small laugh left her, one of bafflement and happiness. “What is this?” she asked, her eyes darting from smiling face to smiling face. She didn’t know them, no, but it was suddenly apparent exactly who they were, based on their striking resemblance to Jon. This was his family; there was his uncle, whose face she vaguely remembered from the tree lot, the man with the kind face, and next to him his aunt, with her beautiful red hair. And there was Robb, and Sansa, and Arya, and Bran and Rickon, the youngest. There were a few more people fanned throughout the hallway, family friends, maybe—like Davos, who smiled when their eyes met, giving her a wink.</p><p>She shook her head in amazement, her gaze returning to Jon. Unbidden, tears rose to her eyes, the first happy tears she’d cried since the news of Uncle Aemon’s passing, and she covered her mouth. Jon stepped toward her then, gently taking her hand in his. He kept his other hand behind his back.</p><p>“I owed you a Christmas carol,” he said by explanation, as his family and friends continued singing behind him.</p><p>Dany shook her head. “I told you—”</p><p>“I know, you said we were even,” he said. “I wanted you to have it anyway. I know this holiday wasn’t what you wanted, and I know there’s nothing I can do to take away your pain. I just wanted to make it feel a little bit like Christmas, just for a minute.”</p><p>She sniffled, feeling silly for crying in front of his family. “But...it’s not Christmas anymore.”</p><p>His brow furrowed. “No?” He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a mistletoe. “Then should I not have brought this?”</p><p>With a watery laugh, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close. “You don’t need it,” she told him, before sealing her mouth to his.</p>
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